#I’m actually sick to my stomach it should be illegal to look this good

[engie-ivy]

Remus is the uptight, swotty Prefect who's always getting the popular and beloved troublemakers Black and Potter in detention. Remus doesn't care what people say of him, and he absolutely doesn't care about Black's blinding smile.

A Book By Its Cover

Remus pulls his jumper closer around himself against the draught in the large, empty halls. The corridor is dimly lit and he hears nothing but the sound of his own footsteps. Everything is quiet. Too quite.

A loud clang suddenly sounds from behind one of the tapestries. Remus almost smiles to himself. Bingo. In a swift motion, he pulls away the tapestry.

Startled, Black whirls around. He’s surrounded by what appear to be paint cans and rope. His shock only last a moment, though.

“Lupin!” He exclaims, a beaming smile appearing on his face. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Remus crosses his arms over his chest. He makes an effort to keep a firm expression on his face, to show he’s not affected by Black’s notorious, blinding smile, like everyone else is. “Only pleasant if you like detention. And as for a surprise, I am a Prefect. I am supposed to be here making my rounds. So what are you doing here?”

“Preparing a prank,” Black says simply.

Remus doesn’t know whether he should be insulted Black doesn’t seem to take his authority very seriously, or glad that he doesn’t insult his intelligence by coming up with an excuse.

“Right,” Remus says, before taking out his notebook and pen. “Out of bed after curfew and engaging in illegal activity,” he scribbles down. “And where’s Potter?”

“Aw, am I not enough for you, Lupin?” Black pouts.

“I figured you could use some company in detention,” Remus replies smoothly.

Black clicks his tongue. “So thoughtful.”

“If you’re here setting up some prank, then it’s a given Potter is setting up that prank somewhere else in the school as well. So, where is he?”

Black shakes his head. “For you’re own good, Lupin, you don’t wanna put James in detention right now. People won’t be too pleased with you if the school’s football star misses the upcoming match against Slytherin thanks to you.”

“So thoughtful,” Remus repeats Black’s words, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But please, don’t concern yourself over me. I’ve never cared what others think of me, and I don’t plan on starting now. And you basically just admitted Potter is currently doing something that would warrant me giving him detention, so you might as well tell me where he is.”

Black sighs. “This is why people call you uptight.”

Remus’ expression hardens. “If people care so much, they should be mad at Potter for risking the football match in the first place by playing some stupid prank.”

Black gasps dramatically and clutches his chest. “Stupid? Our pranks are not stupid! They’re works of art! Jumping out of a cake on miss McGonagall’s birthday? Hilarious! Making a zip line to go from one floor to the other? Brilliant! Filling the gym with stray cats, many of whom were eventually adopted? Genius! People love our pranks. They make people laugh and bring some excitement in their lives. Much needed excitement, because let’s face it, school is boring. Sitting there, listening to old people tell you things you already know.”

“For you maybe,” Remus mutters.

Black scoffs. “Don’t pretend you’re not one of the smartest people in our class, Lupin.”

Remus just glares harder at Black, to show that no, he doesn’t care that Sirius Black, whom people are always falling over themselves for to get even a bit of his attention, has apparently noticed Remus’ academic achievements. No, he doesn’t care at all.

“Even the teachers love our pranks,” Black continues. “They put some life into this place!”

“We’ll see what miss McGonagall has to say about it when I report you tomorrow,” Remus says calmly. “I’ll go finish my rounds, and when I get back, you better have cleaned up this mess.”

As he turns around to leave, Black suddenly grabs his wrist. “Join us!”

“Wha...” Remus turns back, and his traitorous stomach flutters at how close Black is suddenly standing.

“Join us for one prank,” Black says.

Remus blinks at him. “Why in earth would I do that?”

“Because it’s fun! And honestly, Lupin, to me you always look like you can use a bit of fun.”

That catches Remus off guard. It’s true. Between struggling to get top marks, doing everything he can for extra credit, making sure he has a spotless record, excelling at his Prefect duties, and worrying about his sick mother, lately he often feels like just throwing his hands in the air and say ‘screw it all!’, and just do something crazy, something dumb or irresponsible. But he definitely never wanted for Black to notice that.

“Come on, Lupin,” Black says, as Remus stays silent. “Be part of the fun for once, instead of putting a damper on it.”

“Your childish pranks aren’t my idea of fun,” Remus bites back, feeling himself getting defensive.

Black just grins. “You won’t know that unless you join us for just one prank!”

“Why would you even want me to join you?” Many people would be lining up to be a part of one of Black and Potter’s infamous pranks. It’s beyond Remus why Black would ask that one stuffy guy who puts them in detention almost every week.

“Because I like you,” Black shrugs. “I like how hard you work for everything and how you don’t care what anyone thinks of you. And I think you secretly have a talent for it,” he adds with a wink, that absolutely does not make Remus’ knees go weak. “I bet you have a wicked side to you underneath all that swotty stuff.”

“But I’m a Prefect!” Remus argues. “I’m supposed to discipline rule-breakers, not break them myself!”

Black rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t take that job so serious.”

This rubs Remus the wrong way. “Not everyone can afford to treat everything in life as a joke,” he says coolly.

Black folds his arms over his chest and stares. “A fancy title and a badge and suddenly you’re better than us?”

“It’s nothing like that!”

Black huffs. “Then why is that bogus job so important to you?”

“Because some of us can’t afford to have even one note on their record if they ever want to get anywhere in life!” Remus snaps. “Because some of us need perfect scores and every bit of extra credit they can get if they want universities not to immediately bin their applications! Because some of us don’t have a last name they can flaunt, a daddy who can make a phone call, a mommy who can throw some money around, and suddenly you’re top of the list! Because some of us can’t just look at their rich parents and rely on them to always give them everything they want!”

The change in Black is instant. He takes a step back, and instead of his usual easy smile and bright eyes sparkling with mischief, his face becomes an ice-cold mask. “Fuck you, Lupin,” he hisses. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

He pushes past Remus as he storms off, leaving him behind feeling very confused. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Yes, the system is unfair and Black is privileged, but Remus supposes that isn’t really Black’s fault. He knows Black isn’t actually a bad person. His heart is in the right place, and he’s usually kind, only ever mean to people who, quite frankly, deserve it.

Remus just wishes Black would stop with those bloody pranks.

Remus just wishes Black would continue with those bloody pranks.

Or do anything really that makes him seem more like his old self. Remus never thought he’d miss that loud, barking laugh, that infuriating smirk, those lame puns so much.

Ever since everyone returned from Christmas break, Black has completely withdrawn. He hardly talks to anyone, he just sits silently, his eyes staring off in the distance and his expression blank. Potter is always by his side, softly talking to him or just throwing him worried glances.

Since then, it has been the talk of the school, and even in the papers and on the news: Sirius Black has been removed from his parents’ custody. It was a messy affair, the police has even been involved. Black’s father was arrested on grounds of child abuse. Apparently, Orion Black, the noble and well-respected patriarch of the prestigious Black family, has a habit of beating his son. It must’ve been going on for a while, but over the break it escalated. People just can’t get over how Sirius Black’s life wasn’t as perfect as it always seemed to be.

Remus feels bad for Black, and especially feels like an idiot, having said the things he said. He knows he owes Black an apology. It has been a couple of weeks since the break ended, and the apology is beginning to be long overdue. Though he also knows that Black has probably not been waiting for an apology from the uptight twat that always gets him detention.

Maybe it’s more to ease his own consciousness that he hesitantly approaches the table where Black is sitting. Potter glares at him the moment he sees him, and half gets out of his seat, probably to tell him to piss off, and rightfully so. However, after a quick glance at Black’s face, who’s looking up at Remus, he sits back down, as if he sees something on his friend’s face that makes him chance his mind.

“Bla- Sirius,” Remus says, realising a tad late that Sirius might nor want to be reminded of his family name right now. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I said some shitty things to you, and I shouldn’t have. You were right, I didn’t know anything about you.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius says softly. “You had good reason to be angry, it’s a rather fucked up system. And you didn’t know. Didn’t know that I would’ve gladly given up all that privilege to just have parents who... who love me...”

Sirius’ voice falters and he trails off. Potter is staring at him wide-eyed, and also Remus is surprised. He knows Sirius hasn’t talked about it to anyone, and he feels almost guilty he’s saying it to him of all people. He’s also surprised at the overwhelming urge he has to pull Sirius into a hug, hold him and tell him they never deserved him anyway. He has to leave before he does anything stupid.

“I should go,” Remus says quickly. “If there’s ever anything I can do...”

As he turns around to leave, Black suddenly grabs his wrist. “Join us!”

Remus turns back to look at him.

“Join us for one prank.”

“Why would you want me to join you?” Remus asks, much like the first time.

“Because I like you,” Sirius replies, much like the first time, only where he had then sounded nonchalant and slightly amused, he now sounds pleading and vulnerable.

“Yeah,” Remus says hoarsely, because his Prefect duties suddenly don’t seem so important compared to helping Sirius come back to his old self. “Yeah, I’ll join you for one prank.”

And then the most amazing thing happens: for the first time in weeks, Sirius Black smiles. It’s only a small smile, but the room already seems a bit brighter. In a moment of vivid clarity, Remus knows that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make that boy smile.

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #boarding school au #prefect remus lupin

[ichorai]

frozen hearts, flaming arrows ; p.sh

parts ; one. masterlist. two coming soon.

pairing ; fire!seonghwa x ice!reader

summary ; two enemy clans. one icer healer, one flamer soldier, one brewing war. love was never meant to be a part of this. but then again, when is love ever supposed to be a part of anything?

words ; 7.3k

warnings / includes ; cursing, violence, a make-out scene !!, future suggestive / mature content, hwa being sexy as always, ANGST okay this is a lot of ANGST and hURT, enemies to friends to enemies to lovers trope lol

a/n ; bet yall didn’t see this one coming lol but yea pls enjoy !!! im rlly excited for this series omg !!! im sorry this part was rlly short and kinda bad kkdfjdf but this is just the beginning and i swear part two will be much better !!

A snowflake glowing a luminescent blue lazily floated above your palm, multiplying into several others until you held a mini-flurry in your hand. You walked past all the frosted-over trees, huffing in deep breaths of cold air as your boots stepped over piles of unblemished snow and crispy dead leaves. 

Being a healer was exhausting. Though you were still fairly new to the job, you couldn’t help but lay all the blame on yourself for being incapable of saving a life today. You just… hadn’t expected there to be that much blood. Icers had thicker blood for a reason; it wasn’t usually a problem. The head healer tried to reassure you that you did everything you could, but you couldn’t stand to be in the medbay for much longer. You needed air. 

And that’s how you ended up here, head spinning dizzily as you stomped through the wintry grey forest, releasing out a frustrated groan from the bottom of your lungs.

“You’re dangerously close to our territory, Icer.” The sudden deep-timbered voice had you flinching so harshly you hit your head on an icy tree branch. “I’d watch my step if I was you.”

Breath caught in your throat, you watched with wide eyes as the Flamer stepped out of the shadow of a tree. He was undeniably handsome; his irises were dark, flecked with a fierce gold the same hue as the edge of a fire, his slicked-back hair a nightly black, and a curl of his carmine lips that was nowhere near friendly. An obvious insignia of a red flame was embedded into his unwrinkled jacket, a clear sign of this man being from the Fire Tribe.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized I was so close to the border.” You murmured, backing away slowly. The small snowflakes that you had accumulated in your palm quickly dissipated into the air, but miniscule particles of snow still floated around you, no doubt a result of your quaking nerves.

Noticing this, the man watched curiously as a snowflake drifted by him. He raised a finger towards the ice crystal, a small orange flame bursting out of the tip. The snowflake melted into a droplet of water, falling to his feet. You noticed the snow had melted away from him in a large circle around his shoes, now standing in a patch of wet grass. Even from the great distance between the two of you, you could still feel the wavering heat pulsating from this strange man.

“What are you doing so far away from your people?”

You knew you shouldn’t be talking to a Flamer stranger. They were dangerous, and it was common knowledge that Icers and Flamers weren’t on the best terms as of late.

“I couldn’t be there anymore,” You whispered, just loud enough for him to pick up. At his raised eyebrows, you continued on. “I’m a healer. It was a lot of pressure not to mess up.”

He nodded, his curiosity getting the best of him. He stepped closer and asked, “Then why are you a healer?”

“Because I’m good at it.” The words came off far too snobbish for your liking, so you quickly added in a sheepish tone, “Also because I like helping people.”

The two of you fell into a queer silence, before he nodded, somewhat satisfied with your answer. The Flamer turned his back to you, “I best get going now. The lands aren’t going to patrol themselves. Run back to the rest of your people, Icer.”

You could feel his heat retract as he walked away. More snow fell to cover his tracks, as if the strange man with flaming eyes was never there.

It wasn’t until the same time the next day that you found yourself strolling towards the forest, back to the same spot last night, feet acting to their own accord. You paused in your steps when you realized where you were heading. 

Would you really risk getting a Flamer angry at you for getting too close to their borders again? With not another thought, you pushed back the doubts and walked onwards… it wasn’t like you actually crossed the border. There was a large grey strip of forest land that belonged to neither tribe; it was far too costly to maintain and the forest gave them nothing but bugs and piles of dead leaves.

Much to your surprise, the man was already there, watching you with those glowing eyes of his. “What are you doing here?” He hissed.

“I can ask you the same thing,” You retaliated, arching an eyebrow.

The cold wind whistled as it blew past you, but you were planted firmly to the ground. He, on the other hand, grimaced quite obviously as the breeze tousled his neat hair about, sending dark strands careening into his eyes.

“I’m Y/N,” You said with a small smile. Although he pulsated with heat, that only made him feel the frigid sting of the cold wind all the more. At the sight of his shivering form, you wondered just how bad a Flamer can be.

He eyed you suspiciously before stepping forward quite boldly, sticking out a hand, “I’m Seonghwa.”

There was a strange arrhythmic thump in your chest. Now that he was so close to you, the lilith-hued snow around your feet started to wilt away as well, your cheeks flushing at the sudden rise in temperature. Icers weren’t very good with heat, that was obvious.

And when you took his hand, it was as if he was the coldest thing you’ve ever touched. But that couldn’t be it… you couldn’t really feel the cold much. Nonetheless, you gripped his palm unflinchingly, staring him dead in the eye. It became like some sort of challenge, but the both of you knew that you had obviously won. Seonghwa winced at how freezing your fingers against his were.

“Do you come here everyday?” The Flamer asked once he retracted his hand from yours to shove into the warmth of his pocket.

“Yesterday was my first time. I wasn’t planning on coming back today, but I just ended up here on instinct.” Your boot scuffed the pristine snow, avoiding the way his gaze seemed to quite literally burn holes into you.

Seonghwa frowned slightly. Funnily enough, the same exact thing had happened to him. He wasn’t on patrolling duty today, so really, he had no cause to be out here. He could be curled up with a book in front of a nice, warm fire, instead of standing in the snow with an Icer, of all people. Gods, he must be crazy.

“So… what are you doing here?” Your seemingly innocent question had Seonghwa struggling for words. 

In all honesty, he had been curious whether or not you’d come back. An Icer healer in the Grey Forest was more than enough to pique his interest. Nothing remotely gripping ever happened in the Fire Tribe (other than the various men and women who threw themselves at him whenever they got the chance). He hadn’t actually expected you to come back. 

“I’m… hunting.”

“It’s illegal to hunt outside of your tribe lands, everybody knows that.”

“Who said I was hunting for an animal?” Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest to try and look somewhat menacing, but you just grinned. “I was looking for a book I lost.”

You hummed slightly, “Right.” As you waved your arm about, little snowflakes seemed to trail after you, and Seonghwa watched in masked fascination. “Can’t you just admit that you came to see me again?”

“Who’s to say that it’s not you coming to see me?”

“Hmm, let’s just say we both came to see each other. I’ve never seen a Flamer up this close before.”

Seonghwa blinked down at you with wide eyes, as if realizing just how small the distance between the two of you was. His cheeks reddened quickly as he cleared his throat into a fist, stepping backwards and almost slipping on more snow. When he attempted to sidestep the large wet puddle he’d created because of his rippling heat, his foot caught onto a tree root and he tumbled backwards. Snowflakes clung onto his dark hair and he shivered yet again. You tried to conceal your sniggers behind a palm, but Seonghwa still seemed to notice, his blazing eyes narrowing in mock-offense.

“You’re enjoying this,” He stated with an accusatory tone.

“Of course I am,” You replied through muted laughs. “I’m sorry. I would help, but I’m afraid I’d only make it worse.” To emphasize your point, you shook your hands slightly, blue crystals of snow whirling about.

Seonghwa’s fiery eyes seemed to soften at this. He pushed himself up to his feet, now shivering so harshly that you could hear his teeth chatter. You’d only known this Flamer for less than two days and yet he’d already managed to tug at your heartstrings.

“You should go back and get warm. I’ve read about Flamers and their immune systems… you guys are absolute babies when it comes to the cold.” Out of instinct, you reached out to touch his arm, like you did to most sick patients. But of course, you paused just before the tips of your fingers brushed against his jacket, curled your hand into a palm and forced it back down to your side. “I wouldn’t want you getting a fever just to see an ordinary Icer.”

Seonghwa cracked a half of a smile, shaking his head in disbelief.

But when he spun on his heel to leave, you called out before you could stop yourself, “Will I ever see you again, Seonghwa?” He stopped in his tracks without turning to looking at you. Stomach coiling into a tight knot of tension, you awaited in the palpable silence, a heavy lump forming in your throat.

“Next time, let’s go somewhere a bit warmer, yeah? Meet me closer to Flamer territory, by the river next to the largest tree in the Grey Forest. If you get to see me shiver, I get to see you sweat, Icer.” And then he continued on his way, until his lithe form disappeared behind the misty haze and the frosted shrubbery.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Just what were you thinking, agreeing to meet with a Flamer? Were you always this stupid or had you just realized now? You couldn’t believe you were spending your free time with some random Flamer from the Fire Tribe. 

Thoughts of doubt swirled about in your head as you wove your way through the Grey Forest. The low rumbling of the river had you gulping down a large lump in your throat. It was already far too warm for you liking, the little snowflakes that buzzed around your head slowly melting away in water droplets. You didn’t think you’ve ever been this nervous before; not even back when you performed your first major surgery. There was just something about Seonghwa that you couldn’t stay away from… like when your Nan used to tell you no sugar candies before bed, it only made you crave for them all the more.

By the time you spotted Seonghwa leaning against the large tree, you were panting heavily, perspiration marring your skin. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” The Flamer chimed, seeming to be in a much better mood now that the tables have turned. He seemed quite at ease, not a bead of sweat to be seen. “Already worked up quite a sweat, have we?”

Pathetically, you lifted your arm to conjure a small snowball, proceeding to press it against your head for cool relief. It quickly melted into a slushy of ice and water, dripping down your hair. You frowned, while Seonghwa grinned in return.

“Not so fun, is it?” He teased while you kicked off your boots and dipped your feet into the river, moaning in relief at the slightly cooler temperature of the water. You wished to make it colder, but much to your disappointment, the water wouldn’t crystalize because of how quickly it was rushing by. 

Seonghwa crouched next to you, but still kept a decent length away, picking up rocks to skip across the river. For that, you were grateful, because if he made you any warmer than you were at that moment, you would’ve gotten up and stormed back to Icer lands. 

“The first time we met,” You started after flicking water onto your face to cool down, making Seonghwa glance at you with curious eyes. “You were telling me to go back to my territory. But now, you made me come closer to Flamer lands. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. “You’re just… not what I thought an Icer would be like. It made me curious.”

“And what did you think we’d be like?”

A small shrug lifted his shoulder, “Cold. I mean, not that you aren’t, but cold as in… your hearts would be frozen over as well. I grew up with stories of Icers freezing Flamers to death and placing them in their gardens as statues. But you don’t seem like you’d do that kind of stuff. Especially when you told me that you were a healer.”

“For me, everybody knew the story of how the Fire Tribe would lock the Icers they captured in a sealed room, and the snow they made would melt and they’d slowly watch as the room filled with water, unable to turn it into ice because it was too damn hot. And eventually… they’d drown.” At the last few words, you frosted over your fingers and dunked them beneath the waters’ surface.

Seonghwa’s horrified expression made you chuckle slightly.

“Well, for the record, we don’t do that. We aren’t barbarians.” His words were said huffily as he crossed his arms and turned fully to fix his rapt gaze on you.

“I know. It was merely a silly childhood legend.”

The hours dribbled away fairly quickly, you and Seonghwa exchanging tales of your childhood that only increased in absurdity the farther you recounted. He told you about his friend, San, and how they once snuck into Wind Tribe territory to steal rare Gustberries that only grew in the harsh fields of the Breezers. You told him of Hongjoong and Wooyoung, the former being your closest friend and the latter constantly getting himself hurt. Laughs and giggles and the quiet hum of the river filled the silences in between the gaps of your vivid conversations. The more time you spent talking with him, the more you found yourself growing fond of the fiery-eyed man. Who would’ve thought?

By the time the sun had already set, you and Seonghwa were sitting much closer than when you had first sat down, his heat pulsating through the air in waves. To be honest, you didn’t quite mind the subtle warmth after you got used to the initial shock, but you knew you were pushing your limits. An Icer shouldn’t be out in high temperatures for this long. 

You pushed yourself up to your feet, head swimming dizzily as you sucked in lungfuls of air. Slightly concerned, Seonghwa reached out to help you find your feet, but he pulled away at the last moment, just as you had last night. The tables really have turned, you thought in mild amusement.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine…” You swayed on your feet slightly, pressing your cooler palm against your warmer-than-usual forehead.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the cold. You guys are absolute babies when it comes to the heat.” He said, mimicking the same exact words you told him yesterday. A weak laugh slipped past your lips, as you leaned against a tree branch.

Oh, everything was just too hot. You’ve been out of the snow for too long…

All of a sudden, the world was flipped onto its side, damp grass pressing against your face. You could barely register Seonghwa startled yelp before everything went dark.

“Hey. Icer, are you okay? Icer! Y/N, come on, I put you back in the snow, I don’t know what else to do.”

Though your head pounded as though someone had whacked you with a tree branch, you could just barely make out Seonghwa’s concerned tone. When your eyelids fluttered open, you were met with the sight of the Flamer’s handsome, yet alarmed face.

“You okay?” His words came gentle and soothing.

Puffing out a small sigh, you nodded tiredly. Being back in the snow felt much better, “Yeah. Thank you,” You croaked out sheepishly.

Seonghwa beamed down at you, before shuffling away so as the snow around you wouldn’t melt. But just as soon as the smile graced his features, it quickly dissipated into a frown, “Don’t scare me like that,” He practically scolded. “You win, okay? Next time we can stay in the snow.”

Breath caught in your throat, a heavy blush laid over your cheeks, “Next time? You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“No, I suppose not,” Seonghwa said somewhat nonchalantly, shocking you.

“I… well, thank you for the, well… uhm, getting me back,” You stumbled over your words the longer Seonghwa stared. Oh, what was this man doing to you? “I have some… healer things I need to do… so, I best get going… erm -” Without another thought, you pushed yourself onto your knees, snow crunching underneath your breeches as you leaned over towards him.

He was so warm. His face, especially, once you brushed your far-cooler lips against his cheekbone. The Flamer reared back with a ridiculous, startled expression, eyes comically wide. One of his hands came up to clamp against the cheek you kissed, mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. 

“It was really nice talking to you. Thank you again,” You murmured while hiding a grin behind your palm. With that, you turned on your heel and left the blushing Flamer alone in the snow.

From then on, you saw Seonghwa practically every day. Oftentimes, you’d meet in the snow and stroll through the Grey Forest until it got far too warm and the both of you would have to turn back. The moment he’d see your skin dampen with sweat, he’d have the two of you abruptly changing course, steering away from the heat of the Fire Tribe. You thought that was incredibly thoughtful of him. 

Once, Seonghwa discovered a more shallower part of the river that you could actually crystalize to keep yourself cool. That day was a good day. You had gently taken his scorching hand and tried to help him run across the ice before his heat could melt it away. The two of you left soaking wet, boisterous grins painted across your lips.

Hongjoong, being your closest friend and all, was constantly questioning and badgering on about where you went every afternoon. After all, you were a healer and your tribe needed you. But, however selfish it was, you didn’t want to stop seeing Seonghwa… he made you feel things no person from the Ice Tribe had ever made you feel.

The more you saw him, the more you had the urge to yank his stupidly sharp jawline towards you and shove your lips onto his. You’d imagine the way the warmth radiating off his skin would feel underneath your frigid palms and lips. You thought back to the second-long cheek kiss you gave him a couple months back, a fond smile tickling at the corner of your mouth.

“What’re you thinking about?” Seonghwa asked from beside you, nudging you slightly. Over a long course of time, the pair of you grew more and more comfortable with one another, inching closer and closer with each meet-up. At this point, you were practically sitting on top of him, one of his legs intertwined with yours and your head laying on his shoulder, the both of you leaning against a frosted tree trunk. Seonghwa smelled of sweet, burning sugar with a heavier scent of roasted coffee beans. He also often complained about how cold you were, although his tone was always fairly light and lacked any true bite. 

“Nothing,” You were quick to say, pulling your head away from his shoulder to peer up at him.

Shrugging off your strange attitude, Seonghwa glanced down at you with excited eyes, “You wanna see a new trick I learned?”

Without awaiting your answer (because he knew you’d say yes anyway), Seonghwa cupped his hands together and pulled them away to produce a thin orange flame morphed into the shape of a shooting arrow. You watched in rapt fascination as the fire-arrow spun in the air when Seonghwa whistled sharply. Then, he pushed it away to embed itself into the tree across from you. The tree’s dry bark was quick to catch aflame, but you flicked your hands and caged in the fire with frost, the orange dying out into the blackened wood. 

“Learned that during archery,” Seonghwa beamed down at your bemused expression. “You know, only the best Flamers can morph their fires into shapes. It takes a lot of concentration.”

With no effort at all, you twirled your fingers to make an intricate rabbit out of ice, whiskers and fur and all, holding it out to Seonghwa with a minuscule smile. The Flamer scowled slightly, and touched the tip of his finger to the clear crystal, watching it dribble into liquid through the gaps of your palms.

You rolled your eyes to the side before leaning your head back onto his shoulder with a content sigh, “Don’t you compete with me, Park Seonghwa. You’ll never win.”

Much to your surprise, he didn’t bother to argue, and instead pressed his warm nose into your frosty hair, humming, “Yeah, yeah. And who was the one that fainted in the heat again?”

“If I recall correctly, you’ve caught more than three colds just this year! And it’s only the fifth moon, too!”

His hands suddenly darted out to tickle your midriff, to which you squirmed away with a smothered laugh. 

“Hm, wanna put it to the test? I promise I’ll go easy,” You said teasingly once you managed to capture his wrists. You could feel his pulse rapidly thumping against the pad of your thumb. 

“I don’t know… I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust me, you’re not the one that’ll be hurting.”

“Oh, you’re on, Icer.”

The two of you stumbled onto your feet and you held yourself up in a defensive stance. With a faint smile, Seonghwa mimicked your position. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very fair fight; you were a healer and he was a well-trained fighter.

But nonetheless, you were the first to throw, a frozen ball of ice the size of your fist hurtled towards him at top speed. Seonghwa was quick to react, blasting the ice with orange flames until it melted mid-air. You frowned and lithely dodged behind a tree when he reconjured his fire arrows and sent them after you. In retaliation, you quickly brought up a thick ice barrier with a laugh, smothering the thin lines of fire away with the sole of your boots. 

The air was chock-full of his crackling flames muted by your snow, crystalline icicles dripping from nearby tree branches, and lame taunts tossed back and forth by the both of you as you play-fought for another couple of minutes.

Seonghwa might’ve had the upper hand in combat, but you knew how to play dirty. Just as he was stepping forward, you sent a sheet of slippery ice to slide underneath his boots. With a bewildered expression, Seonghwa flailed about for a moment, the small fire he prepared in his palm dying down to glowing embers, before tumbling down into the snow. 

“That was low, Y/N,” The Flamer huffed out whilst trying to catch his breath against the pale white mound of snowflakes, glaring at you with playfully narrowed eyes. You were glad to see that he wasn’t actually angry at you.

“Do you call defeat, Seonghwa? There’s no shame in admitting it, you know!” Your jaunts were light-hearted as you walked closer to him and Seonghwa found himself grinning despite the cold stinging his skin. 

Sticking your hand out to help him up, Seonghwa eyed you for a moment with an indiscernible expression, his playful nature fading away into something you couldn’t quite decipher.

Instead of pushing himself up, he suddenly pulled you down with him, a startled shriek leaving your lips and echoing across the Grey Forest. You fell on top of him with a grunt of pain, meeting his glowing amber eyes with your confused ones. During your hazy moment of puzzlement, Seonghwa tugged you closer, his warm palms curled around your forearms gently. 

And then, without further warning, he kissed you. This one was nothing like the first kiss you gave him. That one was merely an innocent peck on the cheek. But this one… this one held passion and furtive desire and yearning. The both of you most definitely wanted this, it was quite clear by now.

Your senses were overwhelmed in the best way possible. All you could smell was him, the heavy undertone of roasted coffee beans sending your head into a cloudy daze. Your lips were slanted against his hot ones, noses of starkly opposite temperatures bumping against one another in your moment of desperation. You weren’t sure where to place your hands, so you balled them up against his jacket, just close enough to feel the hardness of his chest underneath.

For you, everything was hot, searing with a need for more as his plump, warm lips laid over yours. For him, however, everything was cold. The snow beneath was a mild annoyance, and yet he was willing to bear through it for you. You were equally freezing, but Seonghwa welcomed the cold for once, a dangerous ache that would grow to be lethal if neither of you were careful.

A small, frosty sigh left you when he pulled away for a second to stare at you with those intense eyes of his. You stared back with part-confusion and part-longing, lips agape. That apparently set something off in him, because he sat up with you straddling his hips, hands now encircled around your midriff as he kissed you more passionately, leaning forward so your back arched into him.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Why were you feeling these emotions for a Flamer of all people? Why couldn’t you have just stayed within your own tribe? Turmoil churned about in you as you kissed him in somewhat of a frantic manner. You hated yourself for loving it so much.

The second time he pulled away, you were both gasping for breath, lips swollen and clothes rumpled and askew. You could tell he wanted to kiss you again, and probably a thousand times after that. To be frank, that was all you wanted as well.

But you knew this had to stop. And so, when he leaned forward to capture your lips with his again, you flinched none-too-subtly and slid off his lap. An expression of genuine hurt flickered across his handsome, reddened features. A twinge of guilt gnawed away at your stomach as you got up onto your shaky feet.

“Go home, Seonghwa,” Was all you could find yourself saying with a hoarse voice. “You’re going to catch a cold again.”

You couldn’t look at him anymore. And so, you left him laying crestfallen in the snow, hurriedly making your way back to Icer lands, small blue snowflakes trailing behind you and cold tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

The next day, Seonghwa didn’t show up. You waited by your usual meet-up place, gnawing on your lip anxiously, glancing every which way in hopes of seeing the raven-headed Flamer. In the midst of your worrying turmoil, more and more snowflakes emanated from your skin and it didn’t take long for them to accumulate by your feet, completely covering your boots in a pristilline white blanket. You stepped out of the feather-soft pile, opting to impatiently trudge about in an attempt to steel your nerves.

You hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Seonghwa’s heartbroken expression was imprinted into your mind, leaving you in a mess of guilt and regret and anger. 

Why did you have to push him away? Seonghwa, your first non-Icer friend, shoved away as if he meant nothing. You released a frustrated groan, smacking your palm into your forehead.

It made sense that he didn’t want to see you. If you were in his shoes, you probably wouldn’t leave your room and have the light of day touch your face for a whole moon. The idea of Seonghwa upset just didn’t sit right with you. Nonetheless, you could do little else than bide your time for him, however much you hated waiting.

He didn’t show up the next day either. Nor the one after that. 

By the fourth day of waiting, you started to feel twinges of discouragement, but you never gave up, determined to set things right with Seonghwa. The niggling thought of him never showing up was one that often pestered you while you patiently awaited his return, although always quickly shoved down into the corner of your mind. You didn’t want to think about what you would do if you never saw him again.

It took just over a week of waiting for him to come back. At that point, you hadn’t thought he’d come back at all, reluctantly accepting that you’ve ultimately ruined your friendship with Seonghwa.

And so, imagine your surprise when his voice rang out through the trees, your name rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Y/N.”

Startled, you flinched so hard that your head hit a branch that hung lowly on the icy tree you were sitting beneath. It reminded you so much of the first time you met him that you couldn’t help but crack a smile after your initial pained grimace.

“Seonghwa,” You gasped, eyes round with shock and mouth agape. “You’re… you’re back!” 

The excitement in your voice didn’t go undetected by either of you, but his features were set in stone, unmoving and neutral. Those blazing eyes of his seemed to bore holes into you, and you felt strangely naked underneath his gaze. You noticed that his appearance was more disheveled than ever, eyebags dark and hair not neatly slicked back like usual. He looked broken, but far too proud to admit so.

“Seonghwa…?” You stepped closer, the frosted leafy foliage crumbling under the pressure. This man was someone you deeply cared about, and you knew he felt the same about you.

So why was he staring at you like you meant nothing to him?

A shiver ran down your spine, a sensation that only Seonghwa could bestow upon you. Which was ironic, because the cold feeling that tickled down your spine was ignited by a man with powers of fire and heat. 

You and him didn’t belong together. That was clear as day by now.

“Seonghwa,” You mumbled again, reaching out to him once close enough.

He shut his eyes as if looking at you were torture. It stung more than you liked to admit, so you retracted your fingers, clenching them into a fist and dropping them back by your side awkwardly. The air was so tense, so utterly uncomfortable, you could feel the crack in your heart splinter into more branches.

“Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?” Your bottom lip trembled. This wasn’t the Seonghwa you’ve grown to be so fond of. This man scared you. You had half a mind to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense back into him. Where did your Seonghwa go?

An angry huff escaped his lips, misting visibly out of his carmine lips. The very ones you kissed a little over a week ago.

“You can’t… just… don’t say my name. Please. We can’t be like that anymore. We can’t do this. We can’t keep seeing each other.” Seonghwa’s stoic mask disintegrated into raw emotion. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you mirrored the same exact expression.

There was a part of you that wanted to yell and scream and throw sharp icicles at him until he had no choice but to run back to Flamer territory. Anywhere, as long as it was far away from you. The other, more rational part of you, whispered that he was right. After all, you were the one that pushed him away first. It was only fair.

A broken bone won’t heal if you keep putting pressure on the wound. Being a healer, you couldn’t just ignore your own teachings.

But for just once in your life, you wanted to be selfish. You wanted to hold Seonghwa tightly in your grasp, no matter how dangerous it was. You wanted to call him yours, and you wanted to be his. You wanted to kiss him again, despite the small action being the ultimate downfall for the both of you.

And so you found yourself croaking out, making sure to emphasize his name, “Seonghwa, you know just as much as I do that there’s something here between us. You can’t just ignore it and toss that all out the window!”

His face screwed up in an effort to keep the onslaught of tears at bay. Perhaps what he felt for you wasn’t yet as strong as what he’d call love, but he wasn’t very far from it. He cared too much for you, so much more than anybody else in his life.

He needed you. And because of that, he had to let you go. Fraternizing with the enemy wasn’t something to be taken lightly. If his tribe knew about this little escapade of his, they’d have his head and would finally have a good enough reason to declare war. Regardless, it was only a matter of time. The Fire Tribe has hated Icers for centuries and centuries, teetering on the brink between neutrality and complete bloodshed. 

“We have no choice,” The words were said in a low tone, rumbling deep down in his chest. Seonghwa shuffled closer, so close that you could feel his familiar heat wavering against the ice once again. You longed to reach out and place your hand on his chest, feel his heart thumping against his ribcage frantically, just as yours was. “Do you know what they’d do to you - to us - if our tribes found us together? It’s too risky, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

“I’m a healer. I can take care of myself! And we can just stay careful like we always have. Besides, people rarely come into the Grey Forest anymore!” Your words came out fast and jittery and panicked. You thought that you had already come to terms with losing the man that stood in front of you, but you were far from acceptance, you knew that now.

Seonghwa carded a pale hand through dark strands of hair, “I’m sorry, were you not the one that told me to go back home? You started this. You wanted this!” He was so agitated that when he swung his arm back to his side, small crackles of fire lit up his fingers.

Something inside you snapped, “I most definitely did not! It was just… all too sudden and I needed time to think. Now that I’ve already thought, there’s no need for us to run away and never see each other again! You’re overexaggerating, Seonghwa.”

“No, you don’t get it. Don’t you know, Y/N? Our tribes are verging on war. We’re supposed to be enemies, you and I. Don’t be daft!” His voice raised a notch or two louder, and you found yourself shrinking into yourself.

Tears pricked your eyes and you looked away from his fierce gaze, “We don’t have to be a part of that. We can just -”

“Just what? Pretend? We can’t play picnic in the forest and act like our people aren’t planning to slaughter each other!”

“You know what?” You shouted so loudly that the birds nesting on treetops fluttered away, a mass of dark wings and agitated squawks. “If you want to walk away from this relationship, from me, then go ahead! I won’t stop you. Fuck you, Seonghwa. Fuck you for throwing this away the moment it became something more.”

“You were the first to push away!” He protested, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“Well, I’m sorry!” You cried out, furiously swiping away the tears that dribbled down your cheeks. “I’m sorry I was scared! I’m willing to try again, but you’re not giving me the chance. I waited for you every day, you know.”

“I know. I saw,” He said, suddenly quiet. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

The two of you stared at each other defiantly, heavy breaths misting the air in front of you. His nose was tinted a deep pink, no doubt because of the cold.

“I’m leaving,” Seonghwa said after a long while. “And you shouldn’t come back here. Ever. I need you to know, Y/N. I’m doing this because I care about you. I expect you to do the same for me.”

Then, after casting you a forlorn expression, he tore his blazing eyes away and stiffly swiveled around in the snow. A gust of wind tousled his hair and he blew out a sigh of pale white mist. The cold made his nose red, and you subconsciously noticed the way he shivered slightly, brushing snowflakes off his sleeve. You’d miss that.

You’d miss him.

His heat grew fainter as his long strides took him further away from you. Your tears had crystallized on your cheeks uncomfortably, a frozen reminder of what you’d lost. You had half the mind to storm right up to Seonghwa and force him to stay here, by your side. That was the child speaking within you, however, and you were no longer a child. 

Flicking the solidified salt water on your cheeks away, you did just the same as Seonghwa had minutes ago, trudging your way back to Icer lands. Little did either of you know, the two of you cried fresh tears along the whole journey back. 

The last time you ever stepped foot in the Grey Forest was just the day after. Your eyes were puffy and aching, hair a terrible mess, and a wax-sealed envelope was tightly clutched in your hand.

There was a chance that Seonghwa would never come back. In fact, it was most probable that he’d never get the precariously written letter you left by the usual meeting place, considering what he told you yesterday.

Fond memories sunk its sharpened claws into you, stealing away your breath as you cupped both hands over your mouth, overwhelmed in every way possible. You were far too drained to cry, having emptied away all your tears the day before.

And so, you brushed stray snowflakes off the periwinkle-hued wax stamp, placing it down by the tree stump where Seonghwa usually sat. 

Then you muttered a quiet, broken goodbye, stomping back to Icer lands. You were never going to see Seonghwa again. 

Dear Seonghwa,

I know you told me to never come back. I won’t, I promise. I just wanted to leave the letter because… we never properly got to say goodbye, did we?

Well, congrats, you big dummy. You’re right. You always were, and you always are. We were never supposed to be friends. I mean, I suppose we’re enemies now, aren’t we? It was quite the foolish fantasy we had going on there, huh? I get it, we have to stay loyal to our respective tribes, we can’t risk getting caught, so on so forth. I just hope that when war is declared (which doesn’t seem to be long from now, to be quite honest), I won’t see you on the battlefield. I don’t think I’d be able to handle that. 

So, I guess this is goodbye. It’s a little hard to believe that I won’t ever get to see your stupid face again. Remember when I threw a snowball at you so hard that it broke your nose? You panicked and blood went splattering everywhere and it didn’t stop until I got you to calm down. For a highly-ranked Flamer soldier, I’d expect you to be less squeamish at the sight of your own blood. It’s alright, though. As a healer myself, blood still freaks me out just a bit.

I thought I ruined your pretty face for all the poor ladies and gents who were mad in love with you back at the Flame Tribe, and I felt so guilty. And then you smiled! I remember feeling envy and astonishment at the same time because how the hell could one look pretty while smiling through a broken, bloody nose? 

I’m glad I didn’t ruin your face, though. You’d probably get really mad at me if I did. But you would’ve forgiven me eventually, right?

Frankly, I don’t know if I deserve your forgiveness for what I did. And no, I’m not talking about hurting your precious face (they say a once-broken nose makes a man more attractive!). I’m sorry for pushing you away, Seonghwa. Really, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was scared and I needed time to think. I hope you understand that. If you don’t, that’s okay as well.

If I could rewind time, I wouldn’t have stopped kissing you. I could’ve carried on for days and days and days on end. Did you know that you’re the second person I’ve ever kissed? Don’t ask about the first, drunk Wooyoung isn’t really something to brag about. Well, for the record, you were the first kiss I actually enjoyed. Congrats.

Of course, all this doesn’t mean that it was entirely my fault. I waited for you for a week, and you did nothing but hide behind trees and watch. That was real shitty of you, to put it plainly.

I’ll miss you, though. I’ve never felt this way about any Icer and I doubt I ever will. Of all people to set my sights on, it just had to be a Flamer. What rotten luck we have.

Goodbye forever, Seonghwa. Stay safe, alright? For my sake.

With much love,

Y/N.

Seonghwa read the letter through so quickly that his pupils seemed to be moving at lightning speed. Then, with a numbed heart, he read it a second time, this time much slower.

By the third time he reread each of your carefully handwritten words, warm tears of salt water were running over his cheeks. His face had grown considerably hotter, the salty liquid steaming misty tendrils against his skin. He was angry. So, so ridiculously angry. At himself, at this stupid rivalry between the tribes, at you for being so goddamn perfect. Of course you’d managed to squeeze in jaunts and jokes in a farewell note.

There was a part of him that wished he’d never come back to the Grey Forest and found the letter. Fat droplets of his tears trickled down his jaw and soaked through the parchment, marring the intricate ink characters. With a gentle sigh, Seonghwa brushed the dampness away and stiffly flicked his wrist.

The letter burst into glowing orange flames. And Seonghwa watched on, stifling down the urge to break down into a fit of chest-wracking sobs, until your goodbye was nothing but a measly pile of blackened ashes on his palm.

#ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez #park seonghwa #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez x you #ateez fanfiction #ateez seonghwa #ateez fantasy au #ateez imagines #ateez angst #seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa x you #ateez fanfics

[bubbleteaimagines]

Back To You

Oikawa Tooru Oneshot

Summary: You’ve moved on. You found someone new so why, why do you keep coming back to him?

Paring: Oikawa Tooru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cheating! I do not condone actual cheating but this is fanfiction not real life, Unprotected Sex with mentions of breeding but remember to wrap it kids!

You could feel his stare piercing you even from across the court. White hot, curious with a streak of jealousy.

Of course.

That’s to be expected when you show up to your old boyfriend’s match with your new boyfriend. You tried to ignore his stare as you helped Ragnar – your boyfriend – stretch before the game.

“Babe? Can you pull the other now?” He asks you, smiling sweetly, and it makes you sick that you have to give it all your might to concentrate on him, not the brunette standing just on the other side of the court.

“Of course,” You mentally scold yourself for even letting him cross your mind, pushing down the feeling of your hammering heart and complying with Ragnar. “That hard enough baby?”

“I bet I could give it to you harder,” He smiled suddenly, and you feel yourself become flustered as you realize what he meant.

“Shut up!” You scold him lightly, giggling a little while shaking your head. “You’re such a perv, you know that?”

“Oh come on,” Ragnar whines, his bottom lip jutting out a little in a pout. “You promised that if I won this game then we’d...you know...”

“That was only if you won,” You reminded him, emphasizing only. “Which won’t happen if the star player gets put out for pulling a muscle. So focus.”

“Right, right,” Ragnar finally complied and you ignored the whispers as people slowly began to talk.

“Hey...isn’t that Oikawa’s ex girlfriend?” Someone whispered, causing you to tense up.

“Yeah, I wonder what she’s doing here.”

“Do you think she came to see him?”

“Nah, it looks like she moved on. With a player from the opposing team, no less!”

“Come on,” You gently tugged on Ragnar’s arm as your heart hammered in your chest. “Let’s go set you up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ragnar agreed and you tightly gripped his hand as he lead you deeper into his team’s territory. A few people that would be playing greeted you, but you hardly acknowledged them as you sat down on the bench and then heard him talking.

“Big crowd isn’t it?” Oikawa said nonchalantly, but you could hear something lingering in his voice.

“Yeah. Best not get too caught up in it,” You heard someone else respond. Iwaizumi, of course. He had been one of your closest friends when you and Oikawa were still dating, but after you broke up the two of you slowly drifted away.

You felt bad for cutting him off but you knew that he was Oikawa’s friend first and it’d be too awkward trying to share him.

You needed a clean break from Oikawa, so why, why were you straining so hard to hear him talk?

“Let’s go say hello to some of our opponents,” You then heard Oikawa suggest, causing you to freeze. Ragnar had long since walked away, so you were the only one that noticed the seemingly thunderous footsteps of the last two people you wanted to see.

You knew he was coming, you could feel his stare and desperately tried to move. You willed your body to pick itself up, but somehow you remained seated as suddenly his presence washed over you.

“Well, well,” You flinched at his voice, too close for comfort but still as beautiful and smooth as ever. You could tell he was smirking. “You guys seem pretty good from where we’re standing, I can tell this is gonna be a tough game.”

He was lying. You knew Oikawa and you knew that he’d wipe the floor with Ragnar’s team. This was Seijoh after all- they were the favorites for nationals.

“Uh, thanks?” Seeing as your boyfriend was team captain, he was the one that replied. You kept your eyes glued to him, and him only as you watched the interaction.

“No problem,” Oikawa smirked. “You know I’d even go so far to say I’m nervous,” He said, and you wanted to scream from how he was taunting your boyfriend. But you feared it’d be worse if you got involved.

“Well, we’re not called Tigers for no reason,” Ragnar chuckled. His gaze flashed to you and immediately you could see Oikawa scowling.

“Our playing styles seem to be a lot different,” Oikawa started, “So I wish you luck. But I think you’ll find that you and me- we’re not so different after all.”

For the first time since you had broken up with him, you and Oikawa made eye contact. He winked at you as your (E/C) eyes went wide, your mouth going dry. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

The way he purred your name should have been illegal. And you kicked yourself as your heart began to flutter, butterflies forming in your stomach.

Dammit! You tore your eyes away and looked anywhere but him.

God, you fucking hated him.

How did he manage to have this effect on you, months after you had seen each other? How he did still make you nervous? How did he still make your thighs clench together by saying your name just right, just like he used to do while he had you underneath him and whimpering from his touch?

You sucked in a breath and shook away the tears that threatened to surface. You felt so disgusting, sitting there with your body gravitating towards him and that bastard knew it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ragnar frowned, suddenly becoming defensive as he noticed Oikawa looking straight at you. The brunette chuckled.

“Oh nothing,” He sighed like he hadn’t just called out his girlfriend directly. “Well, we better get going. The game should be starting soon. See you around.”

You averted your gaze as you fixated on Oikawa’s and Iwaizumi’s shoes. Their presence was so off-putting that you flinched again when Oikawa called out your name.

“Oh, and Y/N/N,” You hated the power he still had over you. Because as soon as he addressed you by that name, you looked up.

He smirked. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” He promised, something that he had been retreating over the many texts and DM’s he had sent you.

You gulped.

“Come on, leave her alone,” Iwaizumi gently tugged on Oikawa’s sleeve, dragging him away sending you a look of apology. You nodded in acceptance and then let out a breath when they were finally gone.

“Do you know him?” Ragnar immediately asked, watching Oikawa’s back with hard eyes.

You sighed. “Nope. I’ve never...I’ve never seen him in my life. I was just friends with the guy he was with.”

“Humph,” Ragnar hummed as soon as your phone pinged. Picking it up, you became frozen in shock at the message.

You looked beautiful today, my love. Too bad you were on his arm and not mine.

“Is everything alright?” Ragnar asked carefully, looking at your dejected face. “He didn’t spook you out or anything, did he?”

“N-No, It’s fine,” You stutter, quickly hiding your phone. “I’m fine. Don’t let it get to you- he’s probably just using me to get to you.”

If only he knew. It was much, much more than that.

Oikawa waited for Ragnar to leave and then he smirked when your gaze automatically flickered to his, like he knew it would. Winking, you almost lost it when his lips began to move and he mouthed ‘I love you,’ just when the whistle blew.

–

“YES!”

You grinned in happiness as your boyfriend and his teammates jumped around in victory, having beat Seijou by just a point.

You had to admit, you were on edge the entire game. Regretfully you had spent a good amount of time looking back and forth between your boyfriend and your ex, watching them battle it out.

Ragnar had been amazing out there but Oikawa...Oikawa had been absolutely phenomenal.

It was obvious he had improved in the time you were apart. His spike were still deadly and they were powerful enough to score 15 points. Halfway through the game, you had been sure Seijou would win the game.

But when it really mattered, little mistakes is what got them. So that’s why you were currently celebrating with your team, but didn’t really feel like a win.

Not for you.

“Y/N!” Ragnar snapped you out of your thoughts by pulling you into a sudden kiss, causing you to squeak. “We did it baby- I told you!”

“Yeah!” You were grateful he was too excited to hear your halfhearted reply, and too distracted to see your tight smile. “Congrats, baby. I knew you could do it.”

No you didn’t. Guilt pooled in your stomach as you remembered ranking Oikawa over your own boyfriend. You stomach twisted- how could you do that? How could you sit there that entire game waiting for Ragnar to fail if only you got to see Oikawa win?

You felt sick with yourself.

“Come on,” Ragnar gently tugged on your arm and smiled shyly. “Let’s all get back to the bus, yeah? I believe you have a promise to fufill,” He whispered that last part lowly, causing you to shiver and widen your eyes.

“Right,” You smiled tightly, pretending like your heart wasn’t about to pound out of your chest. “Let me just...let me check to see if we got everything. I’ll do a final sweep and meet you there.”

“Okay,” Ragnar grinned and leaned down to press a kiss on your cheek. Then, with all thirteen of his teammates he exited the building leaving you standing there, hollow.

“What are you doing?” You asked yourself, watching them walk away. “Why am I staying?”

It felt wrong to leave just now. It felt like you had something else to do. Someone else to see.

“Dammit,” You cursed as your feet began to go in the opposite direction, jogging lightly and prayed that they were still there.

It was just your luck that Seijou was on the opposite side of the building, and all of the buses were still there which meant there was a possibility he wouldn’t even be inside.

“Shit!”

You couldn’t believe you were being this stupid. Why were you running towards him, hoping to catch him before he left? Why did you care? Why had you never stopped caring?

“Y/N?” Iwaizumi’s surprised voice was difficult to hear over your heavy breathing, but you managed, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“Iwa-Chan,” You used his old nickname, setting yourself up straight. “I-”

“Why are you here?” He hadn’t meant it to sound rude, he was surprised that’s all. Hell, you were surprised yourself.

“I...” Why were you here?

Your eyes scanned the surroundings behind Iwaizumi. Fourteen players, but there were sixteen on the team. He followed your gaze, and his eyes softened when he noticed you looking.

“In the locker room,” He suddenly said, snapping your attention back to him.

You frowned. “W-What?”

“He’s in the locker room,” Iwaizumi repeated, knowing that’s who you were looking for. You felt your chest tighten.

“I-I wasn’t...”

“Bus leaves in 30 minutes. Don’t make him late, please,” Iwaizumi told you like it was nothing. You suddenly felt embarrassed. He had read you like an open book.

“T-Thank you,” You nodded in appreciation before turning in that direction. “Thank you, Iwaizumi. I-It was good to see you.”

He studied you for moment. It looked like he was about to say something, but then he just shook his head.

“You too, Y/N-Chan. Thank you for this,” Iwaizumi said. “He...he needs you right now.”

You felt like all the air disappeared from your lungs. Your heart pounded uncomfortably, while a tiny voice in your head told you ‘No. Don’t do this.’

“Okay,” You ignored the voice and got moving. Your feet walking in a direction you shouldn’t have been going. Your heart leading the way while your brain screamed profanities.

When you got to the locker room, you could already hear him pacing around. He was cursing, mumbling to himself about things you couldn’t hear until you got closer.

“O-Oikawa?” Your voice was hesitant, but you forced yourself to say something.

Immediately, his brown eyes snapped to you. Surprise- just like Iwaizumi- filled them, but no sooner than it appeared, it was gone.

“Y-Y/N-Chan?” He stuttered your name like he had never uttered it before. It made you even more nervous, but nevertheless your body pulled you in closer. “W-What are you doing here?”

“I-I came to see you,” You forced out, tearing your eyes away. It was too much. His gaze was too intense.

Oikawa scoffed. “After that? Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend, celebrating?”

You didn’t like the way he said ‘your boyfriend.’ It felt wrong, coming from his lips. Like words that shouldn’t exist. You gulped.

“He’s on the bus,” You explained, still keeping your head down. “He...They’re waiting for me.”

“And what-” You could see his shoes getting closer, “Don’t tell me you came back for me,” He said in disbelief.

You sighed. “I wanted to see if you were okay,” You finally got the courage to look up and meet his eyes, and when you did you nearly melted.

Nothing had changed. He could still captivate you with one look- that damn look he was giving you now.

“Oh,” He sounded genuinely confused.

“Y-Yeah,” You stuttered slightly. “It’s just...I know how much you hate losing,” You mumbled quietly, embarrassed. “Especially if it’s to...”

“If it’s to him?” Oikawa finished, and you nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. “Well, you wouldn’t be wrong.”

You guys were so close now that you could begin to feel his body heat. Oikawa was always so warm, it was one of the things you love about him.

Wait a minute. Love?

“Hey,” He was bold and reached over to take your hand, causing electricity to flow through both of you. “Look at me.”

Even though it was softly spoken, you knew that it was a command. And, unable to resist him, you did.

You looked deep into his eyes and you could see every ounce of love he had for you. You could see the lust, the longing, but also the pain that still lingered months after you had parted ways.

“Tell me something,” Oikawa spoke again, letting out a breath. “Do you still love me?”

The question caught you off guard. You weren’t expecting him to jump right in, to dive head first after only just seeing you again.

But for Tooru- you knew he needed to know. You knew that your words would determine would what happen next, if the tension between you two would boil over or if it would simmer to a stop.

“I never stopped,” You confessed honestly, clenching your fists. “Everyday- everyday I’m not with you is like hell for me. I keep thinking back to it, that day you left. And I-”

Tears began to well in your eyes at the memory. All the screaming, the crying and the petty insults you had thrown at one another all seemed so...irrelevant now. Oikawa was staring at you with pure love, love that had never stopped for you. And now...now you began to wonder why either of you ever walked away.

“I’m sorry,” His fingers brushed the side of your face and you relished in his touch, immediately melting into him. “I’m sorry for everything- for what I said to you. For walking away...” Oikawa trailed off for a moment and then he resumed, his eyes squeezing shut. “...For letting someone else take you before I had the chance...before I could...”

“Hey,” Now it was his turn to melt into your touch. Oikawa leaned into you as you cupped his cheek, sighing almost painfully. He had waited too long to feel your touch again. “It’s okay. We both said a lot of things that day. I’m sorry too.”

“I still love you, you know,” Oikawa blurted out. He sounded embarrassed, but little did he know how much they effected you.

It was wrong, you knew that. To be holding your ex, comforting him while your boyfriend was waiting on you. It was wrong but...god it felt so right.

“I know,” You murmured quietly, pressing yourself into him. You could feel the hard outline of his muscles, a feeling that was familiar to you. Your body immediately flushed, subconsciously yearning for more.

“I broke your heart into two,” He said regretfully, his face contorting into pain.

“I know,” But still, you pressed your forehead to his. “But when it healed...it was still beating for you,” You confessed, Oikawa’s arm gently wrapping around your waist to pull you close.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” He said breathlessly, and then before you could react his lips were on yours.

It was like...taking a deep breath after being underwater for so long. So refreshing, so vital to keep living that you had no choice but to surrender to it.

You were quick to lean into him, kissing back with as much passion and feriocity as you could. In that short amount of time, somehow your hands found his hair and Oikawa’s fingers began to find their way up your shirt.

“Can I...” He pulled away to tug on your shirt, looking at with you with absolute need.

“Yes,” You couldn’t get the word out fast enough, excitement running through your veins as Oikawa all but ripped it off. “God, yes.”

“So beautiful,” He muttered slightly, smiling when he saw you were wearing his favorite bra. “It’s like you were expecting this,” He said, but you only responded by leaning to kiss him again.

You couldn’t get enough, it had been so long, too long since his mouth had been on yours. Your body had been craving him for such a long time and now that you had him, you were eager to be as close as you could.

“Your turn,” You told him, pulling away to now tug on his shirt. “Off.”

“Yes ma’am,” Oikawa smirked at your request and immediately took it off, throwing it in some random corner. “Is this good?”

“Perfect,” You murmured lovingly, running your hands over his beautiful body.

Oikawa shivered underneath your touch, anticipation racing through his as you traced his abs.

“It’s been too long,” He said, you nodding in agreement. “It’s not enough, I need to-”

“I know,” You already knew what he wanted and you were eager to comply, stepping away to wiggle out of your jeans. Then, you snapped the bralette off which left you standing in only your cute pale panties.

“Mine,” Your back was against the lockers before you could even blink, a possessive glint in Oikawa’s eyes as he eyed your almost naked body.

“It’s always been yours,” You reminded him, before pulling him down in another kiss. This was one was messier, your desire for one another evident as your tongues danced with each other. Oikawa was pressing so hard against you that you could feel his hard on through his shorts, smirking when he moaned as you grinded against him.

“I need those off,” You ordered, your core beginning to trob at the anticipation. Oikawa was the same, wanting nothing more than to finally be inside of you again. He pulled down his shorts like it was nothing, and then he yanked at your panties, feeling them to be soaked.

“Someone’s excited,” He chuckled, and you moaned as he stoked over your clothed pussy.

“Off,” You whimpered, not being able to stand it anymore. It was unbearable- he was right there, so why wasn’t he buried inside of you?

“Yes ma’am,” Once again, he gave you what you wanted and then shed his boxers, his erection springing free. Your mouth watered at the sight of his pretty cock, standing all hard because of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You admitted as Oikawa pulled your panties down. “I need-”

“I got you,” He promised, finally sliding off the material and then pressing you against the lockers once more. He bent down to hook his arms underneath your thighs, automatically bringing your pussy to hover right over his tip.

He was beyond eager, something you’d never seen in Oikawa before. Usually, he could tease you for hours but this time was different.

“Do you want me to...you want me to prep you first?” He offered like a true gentleman, but you could tell it was killing him to not be inside of you already.

“N-No,” You declined as his cock rubbed over your wet folds. “Not today- next time-”

“Next time,” Oikawa promised, before capturing you into a kiss and slowly sinking himself in.

The stretch was beautiful, you couldn’t help but whimper as your pussy finally became full after months. And from Oikawa no less, it felt like a perfect fit as he gripped you tightly and buried himself to the hilt.

“Fuck,” His eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head at the sensation, your pussy sucking him in. There was something so gratifying, so beautiful about being inside of you again and being able to feel all of you.

It didn’t matter if you were still taking birth control or not. Oikawa was determined to cum inside of you, he was determined to fill you to the brink.

“Move,” You whimpered in his arms, the feeling of his cock pushing past your tight ring of muscles painful, but also reliving. This is what you wanted, you wanted this feeling of him. And you wanted him faster.

“O-Okay,” Oikawa gave you what you wanted and bucked his hips into you, moaning at how tight you felt. You always squeezed him just right, but it seemed like today your walls were determined to milk him dry. Not that he minded of course, but he had to squeeze his eyes shut and focus so that he wouldn’t fill you up right then and there.

“T-Tooru...” Your broken moans only encouraged him to go faster, lockers behind you shaking as he pounded you good. Thank god he was strong- he had no trouble holding you up as he drilled into you over and over again.

“God you’re so fucking tight,” Oikawa moaned and nuzzled himself into your neck, sucking on your sweet spot.

You knew he was going to mark you up, stake his claim to any man that came near you. That included Ragnar but you no longer cared, the feeling of him abusing your cervix washing out anything else.

“Oh god,” You gasped, snapping your eyes open as Oikawa angled his hips to hit just the right spot. That spot that made you go absolutely wild, crying out his name like a prayer as you held on for dear life.

“Oikawa!”

“That’s right baby,” He pulled away from your neck and grunted, looking straight into your eyes as he abused it over and over again. “Let them know who you’ve always belonged to- let them know that I’m the first and only man that’s ever touched this little pussy!”

“I-” You threw your head back as stars began to cloud your vision, “Y-You’re the only one, baby. It’s always you. It’ll always be you,” You cried out, a tear slipping down your face from sheer pleasure.

“I know,” Oikawa kissed your cheeks and then you could feel his thrusts getting sloppy- he was close.

As both of your orgasms came close he made sure to take one hand from under your thighs and then used his fingers to rub your clit. Once again, you marveled this mans strength because he managed to hold you up with one hand while simultaneously pleasuring you at the same time.

“B-Baby...” You could feel the knot in your stomach about to unravel, and you held onto Oikawa as euphoria washed over you. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Let it go, sweetheart,” Oikawa moaned as his own movement stiffened, and then you feel his warm cum paint your walls.

With one last cry, you clenched around him and let it go, yelling out his name so loud there was no way somebody couldn’t hear you, and Oikawa secretly wished it was Ragnar.

A feeling of smugness mixed in with the pleasure as he emptyed himself inside of you, knowing that nobody else had ever had you like this before.

You were full of him, of his cum, and his cock was the only that’s ever had the pleasure to breed you.

He filled your womb like it was nothing and once you both came down, you were a shaking and crying mess against him.

“I love you, Oikawa Tooru,” You mumbled against his lips as he kissed you messily.

“I love you too, Y/N L/N,” He said honestly, giving one last trust before pulling out of you.

Oikawa let go of your legs but he was there to quickly hold your trembling body, your legs unstable. You looked up at him with eyes filled with pure love and admiration and god, Oikawa thinks you’ve never looked prettier with tear stains on your cheeks and with your pussy leaking with his cum.

“Does this mean-” Ever the bold one, he dared to ask, “Does this mean you’re coming home with me?”

“Y-Yes,” You stuttered out slightly, your chest tightening at the prospect of leaving Ragnar but not because you loved him, but because you felt guilty. “What am I gonna...what am I gonna say?” You wondered, but Oikawa already had that planned.

“Leave that to me,” He promised, bending down to pick up your phone. You watched him hesitantly as he unlocked it, smirking when he realized you didn’t even have his picture on your home screen.

“What are you doing?” You asked slightly panicked as he opened up Snapchat.

“This,” You gasped as Oikawa was suddenly inside of you again, your pussy struggling to take him after what just happened. You didn’t even have to think as you held onto his biceps tightly, Oikawa beginning to thrust again.

“Think twice before you take something that’s mine,” You heard him growl, and then he was sliding out, sending the video straight to Ragnar.

“Did you just-”

“He needed to know his place,” Oikawa said casually, scooping you into his arms again. “He may have beat me today, but he lost the most incredible girl he could have ever had.”

“Did you seriously just do that?” You were still floored, struggling to wrap your brain around it. I mean you knew Oikawa was petty but this-?

“Did you expect anything else, my dove?” He chuckled.

You sighed. “Honestly...no. No I didn’t,” You found yourself grinning at him just as your phone pinged, blowing up with texts and snaps from Ragnar.

“Well, I guess that’s our cue,” Oikawa laughed, opening a snap and sending back a selfie. “Come on- you can delete all of his stuff on the bus.”

“You’re...you’re unbelievable,” You told him with wide-eyes, your phone pinging again.

“I know,” Oikawa smiles, “But I have you back either way.”

#oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #tooru oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa torū #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru smut #tooru oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #spicytea.txt

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — zero || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Also available on Ao3.

Word count (chapter): 5.8k

Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers, heavy on angst, slow burn, eventual smut

Warnings & Tags (chapter): Descriptions of Violence, Tension, Dehumanization and general poor treatment of hybrids

A/N: So I have two modes and those are tooth-rotting fluff and angst feast. This is... not fluff. I hope you’ll enjoy this first installment and introduction to the series, and I will see you soon for the next one!

Next

Your eyes follow Jungkook’s every step as he walks through the crowd and enters the cage that serves as a ring. He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re watching. You’re always watching. You’re standing in your usual corner, from where you make sure everything goes smoothly. Two tall, muscular men stand on either side of you. They look like they’re your bodyguards, but really, they’re here to handle him if he tries to do something. To everyone in the room but the two of you, this looks like every other fight night since the very first time he came to the Circle.

You’re too far for him to smell you, especially over the crowd of excited, sweaty men, but if he did, he’s sure he would pick up on the bitter scent of anxiety, would hear your heart beating a little too fast. He’d say you’re lucky the guards aren’t hybrids, but he knows that’s not the case. You never count on luck. Everybody knows that. That’s what makes you so good at your job. That’s what might just save his life.

He glances at you, finds your eyes glued on him, and gives you a smirk, which reveals his abnormally pointy teeth for a rabbit hybrid. It’s been over a year since they’ve been sharpened for him, to make him look more threatening. You’re used to them, but he still sees you swallow. For the first time he wonders, vaguely, if you had any say in that. You’re the one he meets with nowadays, but you’re not his owner, after all.

Your eyes leave him to look at his opponent. The man’s taller and has broad shoulders, he seems to have some training based on his on-guard position, and he’s older than him. You couldn’t find many informations on him, but based on his attributes, he’s probably some kind of dog hybrid.

You both know he doesn’t stand a chance.

“On my left,” the announcer roars, “some fresh meat! I give you… Jin!”

There are enthusiastic shouts, and the man shoots nervous glances around him at the crowd all around him. It’s clear that he isn’t used to that type of setting, and you feel an unexpected wave a guilt in your chest. He’s going to get destroyed tonight, you’re sure of it. You’re the one who suggested that Jungkook should fight a newbie, for the show. You don’t regret your decision, but you don’t feel good about it either.

“And on my right! The man who needs no introduction, who has won thirty! Two! Fights in a row, I give you… Jungkook!”

The crowd goes hysterical, and the hybrid facing him winces again. If he thought he had chance before that, it’s clear that he doesn’t anymore. You wonder if he’d heard about Jungkook, if his owners had prepared him well enough, if whoever owned him was betting against him. You wonder if he’d just been told he would be fighting a rabbit hybrid and assumed he would be fine.

Jungkook’s long ears are flat against his head, carefully tucked under a headband, and without those, he doesn’t look like a rabbit hybrid, too tall and broad-shouldered. Then again, he had never really been your typical rabbit hybrid.

Truth was, you had been relieved when you had been assigned to working for the daughter of Mr. Xanders. Your whole life, you had known you would end up here. Your dad had worked for the Family since before your birth, and though it was clear your mom disapproved, she had never held any illusion that you would escape it. If anything, you were the sacrifice, a way of making sure your siblings wouldn’t be forced to work for the most powerful crime family in town. That was, if you did good enough.

Getting assigned to the girl who was nicknamed “the Princess” was both a blessing and a curse. It meant you got to stay away from most of the illegal stuff, as the girl was notoriously sheltered from all of that by her father. However, it also meant that you had to basically babysit the spoiled seventeen years old, despite her being only a few years younger than you. You had dressed as professionally and sternly as you could, adorning yourself in a dark woman’s suit, but she hadn’t seemed impressed.

That was how you found yourself here, at an auction for rare hybrids. You thought the whole thing was grim — oh, how naive you had to be back then, to think this was bad — but you had obeyed orders without batting an eye. You had to do this right, and this was a pretty easy job, after all.

You gritted your teeth silently as various hybrids were brought on stage, exhibited and bought, one by one. The status of hybrids was a complicated subject in the country, always had been, but you had grown up in a poor area, where a lot of hybrids lived freely, and the idea of owning what you knew to be a person made you sick to your stomach. At least the Princess hadn’t said a word the whole time you’d been there, and you had hopes that you would leave without — God — buying someone.

Naive. So damn naive.

“I want this one,” the girl had announced decidedly, pointing at the stage with a movement of her chin.

Shit.

You looked at the stage. There, the auctioneer was highly praising the hybrid who had last been brought on stage. A surprisingly tall and muscular rabbit hybrid, with fluffy black hair and long ears falling on either side of his head. He was shaking slightly, sending terrified looks around him, and your heart tightened in your chest.

Naive and soft.

“Are you sure?” you asked, and the girl rolled her eyes.

“Do your job. Get him for me.”

Numbers flashed in your mind, the exact amount of money you were allowed to spend clear as day. It made you feel a little better, for a second. This was what you were good with; numbers, facts, informations. If you thought of the hybrid as just that — a number,  an element to compose with — you should be able to do what you were supposed to do. Do your damn job, and ensure your little brother never ever had to work here, because they wouldn’t be as kind to him.

You took a deep breath, and, after a few people had already considerably raised the price, you made your bid.

Jungkook walks to the center of the ring, arms raised high. He’s good at giving a show, good at most things, actually. He looks good here, confident, knowing exactly what he’s worth, and he’s nothing like what he was that first day. There is absolutely no fear on his face as he fists the air and people shout for him. Instead, he seems to be positively thriving on the attention he’s getting.

He’s a favorite here, because he always gives people what they came for. He makes the fight last, makes it theatrical, with twists and impressive moves. It’s been a while since he’s struggled in a fight, really struggled, which has made it easier. You recognize you’ve played your part in that. You have your word to say when picking his opponents, and you don’t want him to— well, to die, or to be too badly injured.

You know it’s not much. You know no matter what you tell yourself, that’s not protecting him. You know you should have acted a lot earlier.

But you didn’t.

They gave you Jungkook as soon as the payment was confirmed, which didn’t take long. People were fidgeting in the room, careful not to stare too long at the Princess. They knew who she was, of course. The bodyguards and your ghostly presence, one step behind her, did not do anything to soothe their nerves. No one actually knew you back then. You hadn’t earned your reputation of efficiency, no one had called you a cold-hearted bitch yet, though that would pretty much become your identifier, but you were still somewhat unnerving, with your stillness and your all black attire.

Which was why you never tried to add color to it.

The Princess seemed to be in her element, not bothered by the silence and people’s obvious fear of her, even for a second. Instead, she was watching her acquisition. The hybrid — Jungkook, you remembered, because you’d heard his name after winning the auction — was staring at the floor, stealing glances at her every once in a while, before quickly looking away again. He was clearly shy, and terrified, and it looked like the Princess liked that.

When they handed the leash to her, she was quick to clip it on his collar, and you held back your disgust. Your mind went to Mark, a kind golden retriever hybrid you had grown up with, and the idea of him being collared like that almost made you retch.

But, of course, none of that could be seen on your face. You had been told that you had the perfect poker face, unreadable at all times. In moments like this, it was a true blessing.

“Hello, Jungkook, I’m Anna, and I’m your new owner. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Then Jungkook looked up at her, briefly, and an adorable smile curved his lips.

You knew then that this could only end in pain and heartbreak.

Once Jungkook is done, he turns to face Jin. The other hybrid looks like he wants to run away, but even if he tried it, he’d be pushed right back in. So he does the smart thing, and prepares himself for the fight, lifting his hands to protect himself. Jungkook does the same thing. There is a brief moment of silence, everyone bracing themselves for what is to come. Despite his earlier display, Jungkook is deathly calm now, every muscle in his body ready for action.

The second the bell rings, Jungkook is moving, so fast he’s almost blurry, and you have to avert your eyes when his fist connects with the other hybrid’s chest.

This all feels like it could have been avoided.

A relationship quickly developed between the shy bunny and the Princess. You didn’t say anything about it; that wasn’t what you were here for. A baby-sitter, sure, but not a chaperone. Anyway, it seemed like Mr. Xanders wasn’t too worried about that, and his daughter was free to do whatever she wanted as long as she didn’t get pregnant. You supposed a hybrid was the perfect choice for that, with how rare it was for them to have children with a human. It could happen, of course, but it was highly unlikely without medical assistance.

Still, you weren’t sure you liked the relationship all that much. It just felt like Anna had so much power over him. He was a couple of years older than her, since selling hybrids under eighteen was technically illegal, but it was clear from the very beginning that he had been sheltered and didn’t have much experience in— well, in any areas. A sickening feeling told you that had probably been done on purpose by the people who had raised him. You were well aware of what rabbit hybrids were usually bought for.

You watched, silently, as they got close, as Anna’s hands started to easily find Jungkook’s, as Jungkook started to rest his head on her shoulder, to scent her, as he fell in love with her. Today, maybe you would have been annoyed at the sight, annoyed by his innocence, but back then, it only made you sad.

You were also there to see Anna grow bored of him. It didn’t even take her that long, no more than a couple of months.

When she insisted on going to another hybrid auction, and asked you to bid on someone else, you knew that it was over.

“Get him to fight,” Mr. Xanders told you dismissively at a meeting you had with him. “I want the money he cost me back.”

“He’s a rabbit hybrid,” you had said, frowning. “He’s not exactly the fighting type.”

“I didn’t tell you to make him win,” he scoffed. “I don’t care if you have to bet against him. Get my money back. After that, I don’t care what you do with him.”

You didn’t realize then that that was a ‘promotion’, and that this meant you would start working in illegal settings. All you knew was the painful weight in your chest at the idea of sending Jungkook to his death. You had kept away from him, not trying to create any bonds with him, but he smiled politely and kindly when he saw you.

God, he was in love with Anna. You were sure he had noticed her losing interest in him, but you also believed he held out hope. This could— This would probably be crushing for him.

So you took the matter into your own hands. You didn’t just sign him up for an upcoming fight, but you also found him a trainer, the best you could.

“Does Anna want me to learn how to fight?” he had asked you, big brown eyes looking at you, when you had told him about the training. “So I can be her bodyguard?”

“My orders don’t come from Anna,” you’d answered, trying to stay as distant as possible.

“But will she— Do you think she’ll like me again, if I learn to fight?”

No. You thought Anna had gotten everything she wanted from him.

“I don’t know,” you had answered. You couldn’t. You couldn’t do it.

The first fight had been brutal. Devastating, in fact. Jungkook had been training, and you’d been told he was good at what he was doing, but, as a newbie, he’d been sent against an expert fighter — “for the show”, you’d heard, the exact same thing you would use as well, years later —, and you were later told he was lucky he’d made it out alive.

You stayed next to him in the hospital room. As a hybrid, he healed quickly, but he still looked terrible, body marred with black and blue, lip busted, and black eyes. When he woke up, he looked around the room, every movement he made clearly painful, and you knew, at his expression, that there was only one thing he thought about in that moment.

Anna wasn’t there.

You would never forget the look he gave you then. The way he set his jaw, the way something hardened in his eyes.

“Get out,” he had said, and you were pretty sure he had meant for it to sound aggressive, but he wasn’t good at it yet, so it was more pleading.

You had gotten up, made a move to— to pat his shoulder, to do something, but you had refrained and your hand had fallen down to your side.

“I’m sorry,” you had said, and you had left him alone in there, with his broken hopes and heart.

That night was the first and last time you considered leaving your job.

But there was no quitting, where you worked.

In the ring, of course, Jungkook is good. He leaves an opening for the guy to place a few punches, ones that can’t hurt him too much. The crowd is delirious, bets are being placed. There’s a rumor that Jungkook was injured at the last fight so tonight could be the night where he loses his title, couldn’t it? The first round is coming to an end, and he doesn’t seem to have done much so, surely, he’s not going to be able to end that guy by the third, like he usually does — and if he does, hey, at least they’ll have had one hell of a show.

The three rounds thing is something you asked him to do after an organizer told you people needed that to feel they had gotten their money’s worth. You had told Jungkook, and he’d growled an answer, but he had never won in less than that since. For all his obvious hatred of you, the organization, and everything that surrounded him, he didn’t actively oppose you most of the time. He had tried to run away, twice, but when those attempts had failed, he had seemed to realize that it was just easier to go with the flow.

When the second round starts, though, he goes wild. His bare feet are light on the floor,  his fists quick and precise. He doesn’t leave anything to luck either. Every punch lands exactly where he wants it to, when he wants it to. He dodges his opponent’s attacks easily, and he sees in his eyes the moment when the man realizes that he’s not winning this. He sees confidence turn into surprise, then into fear, and it only makes him want blood.

His right hook hits the man in the jaw with all the power he can put into it, and this time you don’t wince. You’ve gotten used to the violence now — it always takes you a while — and you’re mostly impressed at how good Jungkook is.

But that’s exactly why you’re in this situation, isn’t it?

“We should put him down,” Mr. Xanders said, with the exact same dismissive tone he had used years ago to tell you to make Jungkook fight, and you looked at him in disbelief. Surely, surely, he didn’t mean—

“I really disapprove of that solution, dad,” Anna said, shaking her head, and you realized he did.

You had been surprised by Anna’s presence, when you had walked into the office. You hadn’t worked for her in a long time, having graduated to far worse things. You had served your purpose, you supposed, made yourself practically indispensable when it came to the organizing of the Family’s business, as you knew the workings of the Family in and out, both legal and… less legal aspects. No one had ever said anything about your siblings joining.

“He attacked someone,” her father simply shrugged.

“If I may, Mr. X, it was after a fight and the man was being really aggressive after he lost the money he’d bet against—”

“I don’t care,” he said, waving his hand like you were just an annoying fly. “He attacked a human. We can’t have our hybrids doing that, otherwise it will just be chaos. You’re smart enough to know that.”

You swallowed. Something inside you was screaming. You had long shut down any form of moral compass, but it seemed like Jungkook always awoke the last remnants of it. You were pretty sure he despised you now, and you didn’t blame him for it. But, just like what you’d thought when Anna had bought him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this just wasn’t right.

“I understand, sir.”

“That’s a horrible thing you’re doing, dad,” Anna insisted. “I thought you’d try to at least reason with him, (Y/N).”

That wasn’t your job. You knew when your opinion was asked on those things, and now was not one of those times. You also knew that you hated that she called you by your first name, like the two of you were friends, and you didn’t say anything about that either.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Mr. Xanders said warmly, like he had just refused to buy her an expensive toy, and not condemned a man to death. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

Anna sighed and rolled her eyes, and you assumed she’d probably stay mad at him for a while. But not too long.

Your heart was beating so loud in your chest you barely heard Mr. Xanders dismissing you, and you were relieved to be left alone when you walked out. There was only one thing you wanted to be thinking about now.

How were you going to save Jungkook’s life?

Jin hits the floor and doesn’t get up. It’s not an actual knock-out, because he’s still moving around, but Jungkook doubts he’ll even try to get back on his feet. The guy seems to be smart, he probably realizes that that would be suicide. Another minute with him on the ring? Nah. That would be a really, really stupid thing to do. Jungkook’s knuckles are bleeding — he doesn’t think they’ve been intact once in the four years he’s been fighting — and he’s pretty much unstoppable, right now.

He lets the referee grab his arm and lift it in the air as the crowd screams. They’re particularly loud tonight, because he won in two rounds. It’s not really a surprise when they force the entrance of the cage, flooding it, and Jungkook looks for you, almost instinctively. When he finds you, your eyes are on your phone. You look like you couldn’t care less about what’s happening around you, and he knows you do genuinely dislike the fights. You’ve never made it a secret. You’ve never taken care of the other hybrids owned by the family who participate, either. He doesn’t know if he’s your burden, or if you’re the one who chooses to still do that. Before, he wouldn’t have doubted it. Now… He’s not so sure.

Your eyes flicker up to his for a second, and you nod, imperceptibly. Your heart is probably beating as loud as his right now, though for different reasons.

Jungkook examines you, takes in how out of place you are in that environment, immaculately dressed, small glasses on your nose, hair pulled back, and lets himself be amused by it, one last time.

And then he’s gone.

You only visited Jungkook when there was about to be a fight, and it was clear he really didn’t like it when you showed up. You always seemed to be interrupting him, whether it was a training session or a work-out. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him do something other than those two things. You didn’t know if he had anything else.

You brought some food from a restaurant he liked, as you usually did, and got some things for the guards who would be around. That wasn’t as usual, but you had done it before, so hopefully it wouldn’t make anyone suspicious and it would allow you to have some privacy with Jungkook.

He sat down opposite from you, immediately diving into the food you’d brought, and you watched silently. His shoulders were tense, never completely down but, though he would hate to admit it, he was more relaxed around you than around anyone else. It said a lot about his life, about how desperate he was for any form of companionship, that the way you told him about his opponents almost made him feel like you cared about him. It said a lot that your presence comforted him, and it was pretty pathetic, if you asked him.

“So, who am I fighting?” he asked while eating. He never bothered with his manners when he was around you.

“A newbie,” you said. “Some fighting training from what I’ve gathered, but he shouldn’t be an issue.”

He growled. The sound was unnatural for a rabbit hybrid, but he had mastered it over the years. It was a good way of intimidating people.

“Really? I thought I told you I wanted a challenge.”

You didn’t reply immediately, and that made him look up at you. When he did, you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, hesitant. That was completely out of character. Then, you made up your mind, and your expression turned back to the unreadable one he was so familiar with.

“Keep eating, and don’t raise your voice” you ordered.

He lifted an eyebrow. Normally, he would have done something like folding his arms and waited for more, in a defiant attitude, but this was you. You would never do something like that just to assert your power over him. He hated your guts, but that was one thing he could say about you.

“Mr. X is going to have you killed because you attacked that man at your last fight.”

There. Direct, to the point, not a useless word — though you couldn’t bring yourself to use the words “put you down”. Jungkook froze for a half a second, than resumed his eating, albeit slower than before.

“It was all good as long as long as I brought him money, but he doesn’t want any trouble for it, huh?”

His voice was bitter and low, barely more than a rumble. You were confident no one was paying attention to you, since the guards ate in another part of the house and no one cared about what you were saying. They could see you through the picture window, but they couldn’t read lips. Still, you lowered your voice as well.

“Win your next fight in two rounds,” you said, instead of answering him.

He shot you a dirty glance.

“Do you really think that’s what I—”

“That should get the crowd to lose their mind,” you continued. You had gone through all the possibilities in your mind, over and over again. This was the one that was the safest for you and your family, while giving Jungkook a reasonable chance of survival. “When that happens, you’ll use the hysteria to leave through your opponent’s entrance.”

This got his attention, and he stopped trying to interrupt you, finally focusing on your words.

“I can probably get you somewhere between five and ten minutes before everyone finds out you’re missing.”

He scoffed.

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I also won’t look too hard for you,” you added, because you would obviously be in charge of that as well. “So as long as you don’t do a terrible job hiding, we probably won’t find you. Stay away from hotels, and don’t get noticed.”

Jungkook stayed silent for a while. He didn’t look at you, jaw set, and you were pretty sure he was weighing the pros and cons of your plan.

“I don’t know if there’ll be another chance,” you told him truthfully. “They want you gone after the fight.”

The silence went on a little longer, before Jungkook spoke again.

“Anna’s said yes to that?”

You didn’t miss the way his voice faltered on her name. You didn’t think he had spoken to her in years, but he still had a soft spot for her, and being reminded of it always made you sad. You had accepted, a long time ago, that life wasn’t fair, but that was particularly true when it came to him. None of what had happened to him was fair. The shy boy with the wide eyes you’d helped buy at the auction deserved better. You didn’t, probably deserved every single bad thing that had happened to you, but for him, you wished you had done something — anything — differently. So you wouldn’t be faced with a jaded, cynical version of that boy right now.

“She opposed it, but her father is still going through with it.”

“So she didn’t oppose it much.”

You didn’t answer that. It was true, and you both knew it.

You glanced at your watch. Your time here was almost over, and you had a lot of responsibilities.

“Will you do it?”

Jungkook glanced at you, eyes wary.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? You could just do that so you could have me killed and say I tried to escape.”

You shook your head, almost amused by the possibility.

“I would gain nothing from doing that, and if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t go about it that way. Will you do it?”

This time, he nodded. He didn’t trust you, but he thought you were telling the truth on this.  So following your plan would be just as well.

“Good. I’ll see you for the fight.”

This would have been a good moment to wish him good luck, probably, but you didn’t do luck, so you didn’t say anything. You gave him a quick nod, gathered your things, and then you were out.

You didn’t think to say goodbye.

“We’ll get him when the crowd’s dispersed,” one of the bodyguards says, and you hum noncommittally in response, eyes on your phone.

Moron.

If these two were the ones you usually work with, they would know that your usual protocol is to go get Jungkook as soon as the referee’s lifted his hand up. That way, you can get him out as quickly as possible and you don’t have to worry about him getting mobbed. But you’ve changed your team the day Mr. Xanders asked you to ‘put Jungkook down’, so they have no idea. It’s been a week since then, which shouldn’t make it too suspicious. Hopefully.

When the crowd does move enough to see what’s going on in the cage — three minutes — one of the two men says, voice worried, “Hey, can you see him?”

Your head snaps up and your eyes scan the room. You’re relieved to see that Jungkook’s nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?” you ask urgently, and the men seem to shrink under your glare, exchanging worried glances. You roll your eyes and sigh. This may be your plan, but they’re still acting incompetent. Which is good for you, sure, but the perfectionist in you is annoyed.

“You two should pray he’s in the changing room,” you spit out as you march towards it. It takes some struggle, because the crowd isn’t exactly calming down, but it’s not too long.

Of course, Jungkook isn’t in the changing room. It was a bad idea to go look there anyway — usually you would probably have already informed everyone that he had disappeared — but these two don’t seem to realize that.

“Go search the fighting room,” you order, “make sure you haven’t missed anything. Then check the surroundings. I’ll stay there. Let me know if you find something.”

They practically run out, and you allow yourself to sit down. This isn’t even dangerous yet. If Jungkook’s done that part correctly, he should already be too far for them to find him. As far as you’re concerned, you’ve bought him — you check your watch — seven minutes. But even if you don’t doubt him, you still feel terror at the idea they could catch him. You don’t know what would happen then. You don’t want to think about it.

The seconds tick by. It’s been almost exactly ten minutes when your phone rings.

“Hello, Miss—”

“Do you have him?” you bark.

There’s a silence.

“I want an answer!” you snap.

“No. I’m sorry. We’ve lost him.”

You hang up immediately and start to dial another number to let people know Jungkook’s missing.

But, before you actually call, you let out a brief sigh of relief.

This just might work.

You get home late the following night. When you do, you’re absolutely exhausted. You’ve had a terrible day, unable to sleep a wink, and you got thoroughly chewed out over Jungkook going missing. You think Mr. X was suspicious of you, because you basically don’t fuck up, ever, but then Anna started to wax poetics about how “Jungkook was a soul who wanted to live”, and you don’t think he bought it, but it at least got his mind off of you.

You doubt he’d get you killed over that, it just isn’t worth it and you’re pretty valuable, but it would be much better if he didn’t think about it too much.

You’ve organized the searches, pretty sloppily in your own opinion. Of course, it’s possible that they could find him, but if Jungkoook does his part, everything should be okay.

You remove your shoes with a groan when you walk in. You usually never regret wearing heels, thankful for the centimeters they help you gain, but tonight you definitely do. Keeping them on for two days was not how they had been intended to be used.

Once they’re off your feet, you painfully walk to your kitchen. All you want to do is to make yourself a cup of tea before going to bed, but you stop yourself before grabbing your kettle.

Something feels— off. You’re probably the only person who could notice it, because you’re  so obsessive with everything that’s in your home, but you just can’t miss it. It’s not much, just some items that aren’t where they should be, or that were moved a little to the side.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you hesitantly grab a knife from your kitchen drawer. You don’t think that would do anything, if someone was in your apartment right now, because you can’t fight and, considering the people you work for, you’re pretty sure if someone wanted to kill you they would, but it makes you feel better.

You make your way through the living-room slowly, heart hammering in your chest. You check the bathroom, first. No one’s in there, but it’s clear that whoever was there used it as well. He didn’t put your toothpaste back where it belonged.

That only leaves your room. You walk in, carefully, to find it empty. Your bed’s done, though not exactly how you do it, and that confuses you. At least until your eyes find the necklace that’s on your bedside table.

It’s the identifying tag Jungkook wore around his neck for fights. You reach out for it, in disbelief, and that only confirms what you thought.

A laugh bubbles in your throat, and you just can’t hold it in. It escapes your lips, breaking the silence that always reigns in your apartment.

Here. He was here, in the eye of the storm, while everyone was looking for him. You have no idea where he is now, but this makes you feel like he’ll be fine. Clearly, he is a smart man and he has resources.

You fall to the ground, lean against your bed, holding the tag in your hand. You give yourself a second. That’s more than you usually get. It’s a second to close your eyes and feel grateful and happy about what happened, a second to think that perhaps not everything is dark and terrible in the world.

A second, because Jungkook made it out.

And then, you open your eyes, and you come back to your reality, which is that you’ll be working for the family tomorrow, and the day after that, and probably for the rest of your life. There’s no out for you. No hope.

But at least Jungkook should be fine. You’ll never know about it, because if he is, then you’ll never hear about him again.

If you ever do, it will only mean bad news.

Next

Thank you for reading! I hope you’ve enjoyed this first chapter and feel free to let me know if you would like to be tagged for future ones!

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #hybrid jungkook #candywrites

[anashins]

No Talking in the Library || Taeyong

"Losing my virginity? Better say taking someone’s virginity. Triple check."

There are still so many things you want to do in your last semester before graduation, and Taeyong is willing to help you.

_______

Skinny dipping

Partying all night long

Drinking hard shots

Dancing on a bar counter

Playing spin the bottle

Getting completely drunk

Attend an illegal rave

Kiss s/o I just met

Ditch classes

You inhaled deeply and tucked the sheet back into your dress’s pocket and out of your sight, your thoughts revolving around the last point you’ve written again.

Losing my virginity

You were already a few months into your last year of university and yet you still felt like you hadn’t experienced everything a normal college kid should have once done in their young lives.

That you hadn’t really lived so far.

Looking at your friends, they had left you behind a long time ago in the first semester already when it came down to checking off bucket lists. It wasn’t like you were too shy or stayed away from parties and boys, though. The opportunity just had never arisen, and only now you realized that it probably never would if you wouldn’t take fate into your own hands.

You were sick and tired of waiting for the perfect moment and the perfect guy.

Looking at your watch, you realized it was nearly time for your next class and that you slowly had to get going.

Passing by different bookshelves, you were pondering whether to still search for lecture here in the library to read through the weekend in preparation for the project you had to work on the next week, but you quickly resisted the urge to do so as you had already collected enough and headed straight to the door.

“Watch out!” you still heard before the next thing you felt was pain crippling your face.

Only the break of a second was needed before numbness turned into pain and shot through your nerves that even reached the tips of your fingers with the root of the ache being your nose.

“Oh my god!” you squealed and brought your hands to the middle of your face while tears welled up behind your squinted eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” a male voice said, full with panic.

When you dared to open your lids, you looked into the eyes of the guy who had banged the entry door right into her face.

“You nearly killed me!”

“I’m so sorry, y/n!”

When he mentioned your name, you turned keen-eared. Blinking through your tears, you slowly started to get a sharper view of the boy in front of you as well. Just slightly taller than you, dark hair, and an expression as shocked as yours.

You just didn’t know his name anymore.

“Does it hurt that bad? Shall we go to the ward to get a cooling pad or something?”

You shook your head and slowly brought your hands down again. The guy had a hard time biting down the smile that threatened to slip off his lips. With care, he touched your arm in a comforting gesture to reassure you.

“I’m sorry, but you totally look like Rudolph the reindeer now.”

You sniffed. “Yes, thanks to you!”

“Okay, that’s true,” he admitted and retreated his hand. “How about I make it up to you, hm?”

“Uh…” You stared at him, yet you still weren’t able to classify his familiar face.

“Hey!” You suddenly got interrupted by the library’s supervisor, a middle-aged woman who was always wearing a frown and owned the hearing of a bat. “No talking in the library! Go inside or leave, but this door has to be closed, understand?”

You nodded, and the guy made a move to pass by the librarian, but not without whispering to you “Come here!” before you disappeared into the library again, the door closing shut behind you.

Having you by his arm, he dragged you along the rows of bookshelves until he found a quiet corner in the very far back of the library. All the while when you were looking at his back, you tried to remember where you knew him from.

And then it suddenly came into your mind.

When you opened the group convo with your friends, his face would appear right next to the unsaved contact that your friend Johnny had added two days prior.

It was Lee Taeyong.

Johnny, Ten, and Jaehyun’s new roommate who you had also met once before at Johnny’s birthday party last week.

“Hey, at least your nose is not red anymore, huh?” he laughed when he came to a hold.

“Banging a door into my face again, Taeyong?” you asked back. “I have to admit, this is kind of a weird way to hit on a girl.”

“You know my name! Admittedly, even just now I wasn’t so sure whether you remembered.”

“That was true, but once the pain vanished and I looked at your back, that scene seemed very familiar to me.”

He grinned. “Johnny’s birthday party, yes, I banged a door into your face back then as well. I’m sorry, I am actually a gentleman, I just didn’t have a chance to prove it yet. I hope this isn’t becoming our thing now.“

“You mean… you banging doors into my face? I hope not, because you actually seem like a nice guy, and otherwise I have to do a runner right now. I’d like to live a few years more.”

“My roommates wouldn’t like the thought that I scared their friend away, so let’s keep this a secret, alright?”

He winked and you laughed. You liked his humor very much and were wondering why you two hadn’t talked before at Johnny’s party.

„Oh, what’s this?“

Taeyong lifted his hand and picked up something white from the floor. He inspected his finding and then frowned. The next moment, he presented something to you that hadn’t been supposed to get seen by anyone else aside from you. The sheet. Apparently it had fallen out of your pocket while hurriedly walking!

You blushed up to her ears and snatched it out of his hand. “Don’t read this!”

He shrugged. “Well… it was quite hard not to miss the significant writing while picking it up, so…”

“Ugh…” You rolled your eyes into oblivion and wished for a hole to appear right under you to vanish in there right now.

You felt your ears burning and a hot flush running down your back as you remembered the last point you had written down. A stranger knowing about your virgin life! Embarrassing!!

“Do you… actually mean this?”

“Mean what?” you questioned with a shaky voice.

You hadn’t heard the slightest tone of mockery in his voice, you then noticed, and when you dared to look at him again, his gaze was even radiating curiosity, far from scorn.

“The points on this list.”

“Please don’t make fun of me!��� you defended yourself. “You don’t know me or why I did this in the first place, so…”

You wanted to quickly pass by him and escape from the scenery, but he grabbed you by your arm and made you stop.

“What I know,” he then spoke, “is that you’re a kind and funny girl, apparently looking for the full college experience, am I right? I would never make fun of someone for that.”

“Okay… thank you. And I’d prefer if you won’t tell anyone about that.”

“That’s a given.”

“So… having checked off anything yet?“

You shook her head, suddenly feeling a weird knot in your stomach. “I just made this today. But now that someone knows about it, it’s probably ridiculous.”

“I don’t think that it’s ridiculous. You just want some fun, what’s so wrong about that?”

You hadn’t looked at this from another point of view, but now Taeyong was giving you his perspective. And he sounded so nonchalant and positive about it that you suddenly didn’t feel as exposed and embarrassed as before.

“You know what I think?” he then blurted out.

“What?” Now, you grew curious.

“I think you need someone to guide you through it, and many more experiences. Go hard or go home.” He grinned. “Someone who’s done all that already.”

“And you’re such a person?” you challenged.

“Let me see.”

Taeyong took the sheet from you again and read through the list. “Skinny dipping? Check. Partying all night long? Every weekend. Drinking hard shots? Also every weekend. Dancing on a bar counter? Double check, except for that one time I fell off. Playing spin the bottle? Boring, but check. Getting completely drunk? More checks than I can remember. Attend an illegal rave? Double check. Kiss someone I just met? I’m not counting this one anymore. Ditch classes? At least once a month. Losing my virginity? Better say taking someone’s virginity. Triple check.”

“Okay I understand!” You yanked the paper out of his hand again. “You probably had a few years to experience all this, and I only have the rest of my senior year left.”

“Why the rush?” Taeyong asked.

Reluctantly, you answered, “I’m leaving the country for my PhD.”

He nodded. “I see.”

Folding the sheet in your hands, you tucked it back into your pocket. “But please don’t tell the guys, I haven’t opened up to them about my future plans yet, but I want to tell them personally when the time is right.”

“Of course.” Taeyong paused. “Well, then what’s stopping you from joining a party with me tonight to get started?”

“The fact that I barely know you yet?”

“Hm, of course, you’ve got a point.” Taeyong pursed his lips and seemed to ponder over something. “Why haven’t we really talked before though at Johnny’s birthday party?”

“I really cannot remember what happened after you’ve banged the door into my face.” You chuckled. “I probably went to cry in the bathroom and then we’ve just lost sight of each other, because you haven’t found a weird sheet from me like today.”

“So… Since you only could remember me just now, we can technically say we’ve just met, right?”

“I’d sign that.”

“Great.”

You barely had time to wonder why he was grinning from ear to ear yet again when you felt Taeyong’s lips on yours the next moment.

They were soft and warm, his movements gentle at first, and he tasted so fresh and minty, and a little bit sweet as though he had drunk some fruit juice just before. Very summerly, and very manly.

His sudden kiss had left you speechless as well as motionless in the beginning, but you, now in high spirits, started to take pleasure in this act not long after his first move as you leaned against him and were welcomed with open arms.

Taeyong was a very handsome guy, there was nothing to deny about that fact, and he was a good kisser on top of that.

His hands made your body angle so that he could circle his arms around your waist and pressed you firmly against him. With your hands, you wandered upwards and sunk your fingers into his fluffy hair just in the moment Taeyong made you part your lips to deepen the kiss with his tongue.

Of course you had kissed boys before. Just because you were still a virgin didn’t mean you had never made out with someone.

But you had never made out with someone this good before.

Although you had gotten a door into your face shortly before, you weren’t so sure whether it was truly only the aftereffects of a possible head injury or Taeyong’s uninterrupted, passionate and oh-so-good kissing or both that got you feel so lightheaded and dizzy.

But what you knew was that you were enjoying that kiss very much.

And that you wanted more.

And Taeyong apparently as well as he proved it to you when his hands curved against your buttocks, and he gently shoved you backwards until your back rested against the wall behind you.

With his fingers, he felt the tender and glowing skin under your shirt’s bottom hem, massaging the spot there lightly as your hands simultaneously grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him so close to you that no sheet would fit in the slit between you two anymore.

Secretly kissing in the library hadn’t been written down on your agenda, but you took whatever you could get to make your last semester a memorable one.

This was so fun to you that you started to think that this bucket list that you had made wasn’t that much of a bad idea after all if every single one of the experiences would leave you that excited as kissing Taeyong.

When you parted, he was still wearing that grin that now seemed more sweet than smug to you, and you joined him.

“Kiss someone you just met? Check.”

“Well, then our meeting here didn’t go to waste after all,” you concluded.

Admittedly, you wanted more. And by the way Taeyong looked at you, still so turned on and dreamy, he didn’t seem to loathe that idea as well.

“How about putting another point up that list?”

“Such as…?” You tilted your head.

“Making out with someone you’ve just met at a party?”

You playfully looked away as though you were in deep thoughts, but to you, the answer was clear the moment he had proposed the idea to you. “I think that’s an experience I shouldn’t miss as well.”

Just as Taeyong let out a relieved laughter and leaned in to you again, you heard a familiar,

“No talking in the library!”

In front of them stood the librarian with the worst timing ever.

“Technically, we weren’t talking,“ Taeyong cleared up cheekily as he withdrew from you, and you nodded in approval.

The librarian though looked confused.

The wink Taeyong shot into your direction was only visible for you, and you blushed faintly as you agreed, “Yeah, we were anything but talking.”

„But I heard you!“ the elderly woman scolded.

“Well, we did something much more fun than talking,” Taeyong explained, but before the librarian could chide more, you laughingly escaped to the outside.

„So about the party…“ he then started as the library’s door closed behind you. „Since we’re technically no strangers anymore…“

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. „Perhaps, I’ll come to the party.“

„And then move on to check off the other points?“ He smirked.

You stuck your tongue out at him, but were really looking forward to tonight.

#taeyong #lee taeyong #nct scenarios #nct imagines #taeyong scenarios #taeyong imagines #taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #nct127 scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop x you #kpop x reader #nct taeyong #taeyong au #my writing #imagine

[bloody-bee-tea]

It’s just a sitting down in the shower day

Me processing my feelings by putting them into fic instead of writing what I really should? More likely than you think though I don't have a Nie Mingjue to cuddle me through it

Title from Shower Day by The Amazing Devil

When Jiang Cheng wakes up he thinks that this is another pretty meh day, but he knows better the moment he picks up his phone.

There are three unread messages waiting for him and Jiang Cheng already feels like he’s crumbling under the expectation of answering them.

So his mood finally tipped over into pretty fucking bad, he thinks and then puts the phone away before it can show him another thing he should react to, face down so that he doesn’t have to see the notifications glare up at him and feel even worse about not being able to answer anything.

At least today. He hopes tomorrow will be better.

When that is done, Jiang Cheng turns around for good measure too, puts his back towards the room and whatever is waiting for him outside of bed, pulls his blanket up under his chin and then he just lays there, staring into nothing, before he closes his eyes and pretends to simply not exist for the day.

It doesn’t work all too well because his mind keeps reminding him that there are people waiting for an answer from him probably, but Jiang Cheng feels like crying when he just thinks about reading the messages and so that makes his mood plummet even more.

Awesome.

Jiang Cheng pulls his blanket up over his head because maybe it doesn’t just keep the monsters at bay but also bad thoughts—one can hope, right—but his mind won’t shut up.

There is one thing that would make Jiang Cheng feel better, but for that he’d have to pick up his phone and actually go to his messages and then ask for help and he’s not about to do that.

Not normally and especially not today, when he could burst into tears at even having to explain what is wrong with him, and so he simply continues to exist in a small space in his bed, curled up and sad.

He thinks he dozed off at one point, because the next thing he knows is that Wei Wuxian is sitting down on his bed and Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t even want to speak to him, but so he also can’t tell him to go fuck off.

So he simply continues to lay there.

“Jiang Cheng, it’s past noon on a Saturday and you’re still in bed?” Wei Wuxian asks, his usual cheer lacking from his voice and now Jiang Cheng feels bad about worrying him.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, his voice probably pretty muffled through the blanket, but he can’t find it in him to even raise his hands to pull it down or anything, so Wei Wuxian will just have to deal with it.

Or not, Jiang Cheng bitterly thinks as Wei Wuxian peels the corner of the blanket away. Thankfully he stops when he uncovers Jiang Cheng’s face, though, so Jiang Cheng will let it pass. At least this once.

“Don’t you have stuff to do? You always have stuff to do on Saturdays,” Wei Wuxian says and Jiang Cheng can hear the frown in his voice, he doesn’t even have to look at him for that.

And it’s true, too. Jiang Cheng usually has stuff to do on Saturdays, or on every other day, and the work will not get itself done. But Jiang Cheng is pretty sure that if he gets up to work on it today, he’ll either break down, scream until he’s hoarse or delete and destroy every last thing he has already done and he does not actually want to do that.

So laying in bed it is.

“Are you still tired?” Wei Wuxian asks next and he leans over Jiang Cheng to get a glimpse at his face. “Is this a symptom of the virus? Did you get the virus?” Wei Wuxian goes on, getting more and more frantic with every question and Jiang Cheng sighs.

“We both know that between us, it’s your immune system that is shit. So if I had the virus then you would most definitely have it too and I don’t see you being sick,” Jiang Cheng says and then he feels like he ran a marathon because speaking is actually pretty damn exhausting.

“Rude,” Wei Wuxian huffs out, but he sounds calmer already and a calm Wei Wuxian means that Jiang Cheng will get to wallow in peace much more easily and sooner at that.

“Why won’t you come out?” Wei Wuxian wants to know and Jiang Cheng heaves out another sigh.

“Leave me alone,” he says, his voice listless and low and he can practically feel the worry radiating off Wei Wuxian at that.

“You’re not yelling at me,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “You’re not even cursing at me. Are you dying?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng gives back, but he also turns his face further into the pillow. “Go away.”

“I guess I will,” Wei Wuxian hesitantly says and Jiang Cheng feels him getting up from the bed. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

“I need you to go away,” Jiang Cheng tells him, though a tiny part of himself panics at the thought that Wei Wuxian might really go away, and not come back, but even that is not enough to get Jiang Cheng to explain more or even turn around.

If Wei Wuxian really does want to leave and not come back like ever, then Jiang Cheng guesses it was inevitable and it’s not like his mood can get any worse anyway.

“Alright,” Wei Wuxian whispers but he hesitates in the doorway. “I’m here if you need anything, though,” he then adds and Jiang Cheng does have to admit that he relaxes slightly at hearing that, even though it doesn’t improve anything major about his mood.

At least his mind can shut up about Wei Wuxian leaving him now. One thing less to worry about.

Once Jiang Cheng is sure that Wei Wuxian left the room, he pulls the blanket up over his head again, because like this it’s warm and dark and it’s about the only state that Jiang Cheng can endure at the moment and then he continues to simply not do anything besides existing for the next however long it is.

At one point Jiang Cheng’s stomach grumbles, but it stops after one sound and it’s not enough incentive for Jiang Cheng to actually get up and do anything about it, so he doesn’t pay any more attention to it.

He maybe dozes off again, because he wakes up to the door opening again, and usually he would snap at Wei Wuxian for coming back when he’s so clearly not wanted right now, but Jiang Cheng can’t muster the energy to do that.

He’ll just deal with whatever annoying shit Wei Wuxian wants now and then he’ll go back to his wallowing.

It’s sounds like a pretty decent plan, if Jiang Cheng is being honest, especially since he knows that he can out-stubborn Wei Wuxian on any day, but he was not at all prepared for someone to slide into bed with him.

Jiang Cheng tenses for a second, before he’s being pulled against a very familiar chest and then he simply goes boneless.

Though he does muster up enough energy to turn around so that he can hide his face in Nie Mingjue’s chest, because obviously no place is better than that, even on bad days.

“Wei Wuxian said you’re not doing so well today,” Nie Mingjue mutters and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head. “So I thought I’d come over.”

Jiang Cheng has to swallow against the emotion lodged in his throat before he can actually speak, but there is nothing at all he can do against the burning of his eyes.

“I don’t want to do anything,” Jiang Cheng says, because he figures it’s better to manage Nie Mingjue’s expectations immediately instead of making him think that Jiang Cheng will get a grip in a few minutes and they can do something.

“Okay,” Nie Mingjue easily agrees and then wriggles around a bit.

Jiang Cheng slightly starts to panic when he thinks that Nie Mingjue is going to leave again, but apparently Nie Mingjue is just getting more comfortable, because he lets out a sigh and then goes boneless.

“You don’t have to stay,” Jiang Cheng mutters, hating that he’s robbing Nie Mingjue of his Saturday now, too, but Nie Mingjue only hums.

“Dozing the day away sounds actually pretty good,” he mumbles into Jiang Cheng’s hair. “The guy above me was throwing a party. At least until the police came and crashed it, because you know, throwing parties is kind of illegal in this day and age, and it turned out he was actually alone up there. I don’t even know how he managed to achieve that kind of noise on his own, but I certainly didn’t get much sleep,” Nie Mingjue explains and then pulls Jiang Cheng even closer to himself.

It’s a good explanation; at least like this Jiang Cheng doesn’t feel too guilty about ruining someone else’s day, and that makes it a lot easier.

But he still feels the need to reiterate that there will be nothing at all happening with him today except this.

“I don’t think I want to do anything later, either,” Jiang Cheng tries to explain, because he never knows how to put these bad days into words, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem to care.

“Hush, I’m trying to doze and cuddle my boyfriend,” he sleepily mumbles and it’s actually enough to make Jiang Cheng’s lips twitch, though with the new burning of his eyes that could have multiple reasons.

“Fine,” he says and then they both fall silent.

Jiang Cheng is pretty sure that Nie Mingjue falls asleep mere minutes later, because his breath is deep and even and it’s doing a lot for Jiang Cheng as well.

He guesses he will have to thank Wei Wuxian for this, but that will have to wait for tomorrow.

Today he’s going to stay in bed, and feel bad and have his boyfriend be understanding of his moods. That’s got to be enough for one day.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #established relationship #modern au #bad days #cuddling and snuggling #nmj is the best and most understanding #need me one too #wwx is also pretty dope in here

[shoutoismybaby]

A Pink Promise (BakuXReader)

Summary: You had a tradition with bakugou. A tradition where every time you had to leave each other you would wrap your pinky’s together in a promise that you would see the other again. But one night after an argument you storm out of the apartment without your typical goodbye, and bakugou gets a call that makes him question if he will ever see you alive again

WARNING: Angst, but it ends in fluff. Cursing, injury, car accident, fighting, and crying

Hi. I’m just gonna leave this here😘

***

“I should probably head home,” You shifted from one foot to another, “my dad will get worried if I’m late…”

“Alright, bye loser.” You giggled at Bakugous response and held out your hand, pinky extended.

“So, you’ll pick me up at two?” You asked, pausing at the confused look on his face. “What?”

“What are you doing?” Bakugou asked, he was staring at your hand. You laughed once more and ignored his glare,

“Oh, it's for a pinky promise.” You explained,

“You need me to pinky promise that I’ll take you on a date tomorrow?” His brows only became more furrowed, Katsuki knew you were a little weird. The simplest things seemed to make you smile, but that's what he loved about you. He wondered if you seriously wanted him to pinky promise you that he would take you out, right after he just asked you to be his girlfriend. Yeah, he was an asshole. But not to that extent.

“No, um. It’s a promise that you’ll see me again.” You blushed, it was a habit you had picked up from your parents. They always used a pinky promise in place of a goodbye kiss. You were about to let your hand drop when looped his pinky with yours.

“Okay, I’ll be at your house at two. You better be ready.” He gave your finger a tight squeeze before letting it go. He then turned around and began walking away from you.

“I won't!” You promised, watching him walk away for a couple of seconds before you turned to head home.

From that day on, each time you went to say goodbye, a pinky promise accompanied it. Even Bakugou caught onto the habit quickly, despite the fact that his friends would often tease him for it. Yeah, he was whipped for you. He knew it. Your peers knew it. Even your uncle's dog knew it. But all that mattered to him was that you were happy. And you were for a while.

It was when you had graduated for UA and moved into an apartment together that problems started to arise. Katsuki got overly jealous of every person you got close to, and you were always exhausted after work. Hero's work was stressful on both of you, only contributing to the short temper your boyfriend seemed to have. Fights would happen over the smallest of things, such as chores not being done, or something being left out where it didn't belong.

Of course, you couldn't say that you were innocent, you did start a fair amount of fights. Eventually, though, it hit a point that you could barely handle it anymore. Even when you tried to calm him down, to just talk through things, it would always end in screams and slammed doors.

And soon enough, you hit your limit.

“God, don’t you ever shut up!?” You screamed, just having gotten home from work. Why were you already fighting with him? You hadn't even gotten the chance to take off your shoes. His face only seemed to get more contorted, matching the amount of anger he felt. Why was he always directing it at you? “I just got home from work, cant you give me a fucking break!”

“Maybe you’d get home earlier if you were any good at what you do!” He argued, of course, he would go on the offense.

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” You prayed that he would back down.

“I'm just saying that if you weren't such a shitty hero, maybe you would get home at a decent time and actually-” That was your breaking point.

“Just because you’ll never be good enough to be the number 1 hero, doesn't mean you can take it out on me!” You shut him up pretty fast. His face paled and eyes widened, but you could barely notice past the high you were on. “I’m sick and tired of coming home to someone who only wants to fight with me! Have you ever thought that maybe I take extra shifts to avoid seeing you?”

You were crying now, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You were so mad. How could he tell you that he loved you and then tell you something like that?

Katsuki seemed frozen, you couldn't see the guilt flood his body. You couldn't hear the thoughts whirring in his head. You couldn't feel his regret. You could only feel anger.

You could only feel your heart ripping in two, the tears scratching their way to your eyes. Everything hurt. You felt like a gust of wind could cause your body to fall apart. Yet, at the same time, you felt numb. Maybe that was the anger. The desperation. The hurt. Maybe that was what was protecting your fragile self.

You had never felt so broken and vulnerable before.

“I hate you Bakugou!” He was supposed to be the one to protect you, love you, care for you. So why was he the one tearing you apart?

If it hadn't already, his heart stopped. You hadn't called him by his last name since you got together.

“(Y/n)-” His hand reached out to you. All he wanted to do right then was apologize to you, and hold you close until you forgave him. But you couldn't do that. Not again. Not then,

“Don't touch me!” Your voice sounded so broken as you held one of your wrists in your other hand. “Don't-” A shuddering breath made its way through your throat. You reached for your coat and began to pull it on.

“(Y/n), please don't. I'm sorry-”

“I don't want to see you again,” You closed your eyes tight and sighed, turning to the door. He didn't say anything else, so you left.

***

It was a couple of seconds before his arm returned to his side, and a couple of minutes more before he stopped standing there. Choosing to sit instead. He wasn’t sure why. Why he didn’t just move to the couch. Why some part of him was convinced that you would just walk back in, and let him apologize. Let him fix everything.

But he knew you wouldn't. Even more, he knew he didn’t deserve it.

It was an hour before he finally moved, and it was only to get to his ringing phone. All he could do at that moment was wish it was you.

Wish it was about you.

Oh, how he came to wish he could take back that wish.

“(y/n), I'm sorry-”

“Hello?” It wasn't your voice on the phone, Bakugou considered hanging up, but had a feeling that he shouldn't.

“Who is this?” He asked gruffly, he just wanted you back in his arms. He didn't care about anything else.

“My name is Haru, I work for the Musutafu hospital. Your number is on the emergency contact list of (Y/n) (L/n). Could you come down to the hospital? It's urgent.”

Bakugou didn't think that his heart would break anymore that night. But here he was, tearing up on the phone. Begging and screaming at the poor nurse to tell him what was going on, knowing full well she couldn't. Stupid patient confidentiality.

He had never pulled on his shoes and coat faster, not taking the time to realise his shoes did not match. He knew it was illegal to use his quirk at the moment, but he didn’t care. He launched himself into the air and towards the hospital, only slowing down in order to land painfully in front of the doors. But he didn't care about how he felt. Nor did he care about the immediate attention that was placed on him from everyone around.

“Is that Ground Zero?”

“I’ve never seen him without his hero suit on before”

“Look at him. He looks like a mess.”

“Is he okay?”

The hospital was busy when he walked inside, covered in sweat from both the bodily exertion and anxiety. His heart was racing and the only thing keeping him from fainting was the fact that he needed to see you. How had you already ended up in the hospital? You had only just left his house-

But the clock on the wall corrected him, it had been a few hours. His stomach churned as he walked up to the receptionist's desk,

“Where’s (Y/n)?” He growled out, beginning to get restless. Now that some people knew who he was, the paparazzi was sure to show up. And that was the last thing either of you needed.

“Name, ID, Relationship to the patient?” The woman's calm demeanor was in direct contrast to the storm brewing in Bakugou.

“Bakugou Katsuki, I’m (Y/n) (L/n)’s boyfriend.” He said as he dug out his wallet, suddenly remembering something you had told him once when you had to visit him in the hospital after a villain encounter went sideways. “But we’ve lived together for over three years, we have a common law marriage.”

He knew that this was the only way he was going to be able to see you, but it wasn’t like he was lying. The receptionist squinted at him before taking his ID and looking it over.

“Alright, if you can state the name of the patient you are visiting for me again I can get you the guest pass and their room number.”

***

Your door slammed open, and you strained your eyes trying to see. The brace around your neck stops you from properly looking over. It didn’t take long to realise who it was when you heard the strangled whine. You recognized it as Katsuki right away. How could you not?

You had been with him for years, through the ups, the downs, and the very far downs that were the past year. You had held him tightly when those noises had escaped him in the past and you shielded him from the world when he was no longer able to keep up his facade.

You could only imagine how broken he looked now, you just wanted to hold him again and protect him from everything.

Until you remembered your last conversation, but then you just felt conflicted. You were mad at him. You were so angry.

But you were scared, so scared.

After all your years as a pro hero, and it was a truck that fucked you up the most. Each breath was painful, and maybe if your mind wasn’t so cloudy on pain meds, you would be able to remember how many ribs the doctor told you were broken, or which leg. Or if you were going to live. God, were you scared.

Footsteps brought you out of your thoughts, focusing your eyes to the man who stood in front of you. He looked like a boy now, so broken and collapsed in on himself.

“(Y/n),” sounded broken.

His brows were furrowed, mouth deep set in a scowl. But you knew better. You saw the tears stains on his cheeks. The redness of his eyes. His coat was inside out. You knew his face was one of worry. Fear.

You remembered the first time you saw him look like that. The first time he opened himself up to be so vulnerable to you. It was sometime after All Might had fallen, and the guilt had been eating him up. Not many other people noticed the way his thoughts were eating him up inside. But you did.

You saw the light in his eyes dim. The dark bags began to form and the way his posture fell. His confidence was falling no matter how much he screamed to keep up his image.

“K-kat-suk-i” You struggled to speak, your voice raspy. Like you hadn’t drank anything in years. Tears bubbled in his eyes, and, somehow that was more painful than when you first woke up. In the middle of the street, there had been a young woman kneeling over you, screaming into her phone. You couldn't hear her though, only the ringing in your ear.

You couldn't remember right before you got hit, it was fuzzy. Though the doctor told you it was normal. You wondered if maybe you were just running without looking. Or if tears clouded your vision. Or maybe, if it hadn't been your fault at all.

“Shit,” The love of your life began to scrub his face with his fists, much like he did the night you found him in the dorms kitchen. Crying over a late night snack as his fists clenched the edge of the counter, struggling to hold himself together.

No matter how much he tried to cover his face after you made your presence known, you could see the tears as they fell to the floor. You could hear his strangled whimpers. And even though you knew the possible consequences, you held his shaking body in your arms. You let him be vulnerable and didn’t say a word.

It was that day that you began to see Bakugou as he truly was. An Asshole? Yes, of course. But also a boy who cared way too much, who held himself to impossible standards, and who never really had a proper support system. You decided to be his support that day, and soon after you became his girlfriend too.

“They, they told me what happened to you,” you watched as little pops of frustration came out of his fists. “And I couldn't help but think that it’s my fault.”

“No,” you wanted to protest, but you instead had your breath hitched in your throat. The desire of water coming to be the very forefront of your thoughts as you reached out your hands, desperate for the hydration that would let you continue. Bakugou, of course noticed and his crimson eyes quickly spotte the glass of water on your nightstand. Once the cool glass brushed against your fingers, you brought it to your lips and drank as if you hadn’t seen a liquid in days.

“Just, listen okay? I… Ive been taking out my work stress on you, I’ve been rude and condesending and just fucking nit picky. You didn’t deserve any of that, especially what I said earlier. It was fucking uncalled for and so far from the truth.” The determination in his gaze was evident, it was the same gleam in his eyes he got whenever he set his mind to something. You adored that look from him.

“I know Katsuki, I know you don’t really think that.” You muttered, unsure of what to say. Were you just supposed to forgive his, what seemed to be, apology? You had no idea how you felt. Your head hurt along with the rest of your body and your throat was still parched despite downing your water seconds ago.

“It doesnt matter, you need to know what I do think. I think youre an incredibly strong woman. And a fucking resilient, relentless one at that. Can’t get you off my shit for two seconds. But I love that about you, you know? I know I’ve been a dick recently but I really do love you. I asmire you too, your work ethic. You never give up and thats what makes you one of the best heroes out there, fuck what the polls say.” He sniffled and quickly ran a closed fist under his nose. “You dont deserve what I’ve been putting you through lately… and I’m fucking sorry. You’re the most important person in my life and you deserve better than the asshole you’ve been getting.”

“You’ve always been an asshole.” You used your glass to hide the smirk on your face that only grew bigger as bakugou couldn't help himself from blowing up.

“I- are you kidding!? I’m trying to fucking apologize here and THATS what you choose to say!?” The pops of his quirk created a melody with the raspy laughs that left your mouth.

“Yeah,” your chuckling continued as bakugou's face softened. Eyes like cooling embers as they dusted across your figure. You tried to ignore that look, it always made your chest swell uncomfortably. Nothing could make you tear up more than the love bakugou had for you.

“Shitty woman,” he sat himself down in the chair besides your bed and took the now empty glass from your hands, “I just want you to know that when- if, you come home… that things are going to be better. I don't ever want to make you feel like you have to avoid me ever again. I want you to feel safe around me. And I swear that I’m going to put you above my hero work from now on-“

“No, Katsuki, I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have said that you can't become the number one hero, it's not true.” You shook your head, the shame being too painful to look anywhere but your hands. Balled in fists on your lap before they were gently tugged into his own. You reluctantly met his eyes, admiring the fire that burned in them.

“This has nothing to fucking do with that, okay? I’m not giving up on being the number one, I’m just going to start working harder to be better for you at the same time. And anyone who thinks I can’t do it is a dumb bitch.”

“God can your ego get Any bigger?” A smile stretched across your face as you began laughing again when he simply shrugged. It hurt like a bitch, the sharp pain making your eyes water, but you just loved everything about the angry man in front of you. Even when he began yelling at you to stop laughing before you hurt yourself even more. It took awhile for you to calm down, and even longer to get bakugou to stop glaring at you for hurting yourself.

“I love you,” he said after a moment of silence, his rough thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of your hand.

“I know.” You sighed, basking in the silence that lasted only a few seconds before bakugou ripped his hands from yours.

“SAY IT BACK!”

***

I hope you enjoyed!

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #nesawrites #bakugou x reader #bnha x y/n

[namunad]

MISFITS

Some things are meant to be and some aren’t.

word count: 5k

Warnings: smut, mentions of mental ilness, smut, switch!jungkook, switch!reader, curvy!reader, angst  (like lots and lots).

It’s 1 a.m the air is cold and breaths puff up as soft clouds in the air, walking in silence you’re feeling the soft buzz of the few drinks that you had leaving you euphoric on this cold night. Jungkook seems to be fighting with the wind to light up his cigarette, the glow of the nearby bar playing on his face, purple and pink reflecting on his cheekbones. He squeals exited when finally hot red flashes before him and lets him drag the smoke to his lungs.

“Why the fuck did I pay 50 dollars for a drink?” his hand comes up to his temple massaging the tense skin frowning his red lips tug downward, his foot tapping on the hard concrete “but most importantly where the fuck is our taxi”. You shrugged not having an answer for his last question, the breeze forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself.

“You asked for the most expensive drink Kook” the soft smile that plays on your lips calms him briefly before he rolls his eyes huffing.

“I asked for the best drink, not the most expensive, and it wasn’t even that good” you laugh knowing that he is lying, the image of his face enjoying the drink impressed behind your eyes. Skin flushed and mouth slightly agape leaving your mind running free, fantasising about what could be wetting his lips like that. Soft petals after a moist night.

“Quit whining, you act like it's the end of the world” he scoffs and gives you a soft push, his lips spreading into a smile, the cigarette lying on the corner of his mouth. Ash falls on the collar of his black coat, your hands move their own accord dusting the soft ash off the fabric and staying above his heart.

Neither of you smoked when you first met, it's a bad habit that college got you into. You remember promises of never drinking, smoking or make use of any illegal substance. You start laughing, the irony of your past floating above your heads. How does one change completely within years?

“You’re lucky we’re friends, keep running that mouth and you’ll not be anymore” you purse your lips and sneak your fingers to the cigarette stealing it from Jungkook. The filter is stained from his lipstick, when it finds a place in your mouth you can’t stop your mind from thinking about where it had been before. Can it be considered as a kiss?

“Lucky me then, I love to open my mouth such a shame you don’t” the implication of what you’re saying is not lost on him. His eyes are dark and heavy, as always he doesn’t reply to your flirting leaving you like a call unanswered. The phone rings and behind there’s only buzzing statics. Suddenly awake, the night seems darker and colder.The sound of air leaving your lungs makes the wait even worse, the cigarette is suddenly unlit and cold. You throw it and step on it roughly.

Fuck him, you think and you almost say it. Stopping you is the tall figure that gets in between you two, the guy which is clearly drunk offers you a lopsided smirk and cocks his head at you.

“What are you doing here alone, pretty lady? Want some company?” as you open your mouth to say that you're actually not alone you stop yourself, mad and uncorresponded you tell him that you simply are not interested. But it doesn’t stop there, it never does with this type of man. The stranger hand finds your wrist and tuggs you against him “Don’t play hard babe, lets have fun”.

“I told you that I’m not fucking intrested” you shove him away from you, receving attention that you dindn’t want -attention from someone who wasn’t Jungkook- made you more upset. The guys face twists into a deep frown gripping tighter your wrist.

“You should be grateful bitch that I’m giving your fat ass a chan...” this time his words die on his mouth the reason being Jungkook. The sound of bones breaking makes you screech in horror, the guy takes a step back but doesn’t fall, doesn’t let go of you. Bloodshot eyes find yours, a wicked feeling gripping you from the inside. Red pops in your mind, it screams danger.

“She doesn’t want you dumbass” he screams with a proud glimmer in his eyes, maybe the feeling of victory, but this isn’t a film and before you can do anything Jungkook is falling on his back holding his face. The blood that gathers on his hand makes you sick, the world spinning beneath you. His vice grip leaves you and you fall against the wall, you bounce from the contact. Hard rubber against the floor.

From then it's just flashes, the tall man swings a fist at Jungkook then he says something and Jungkook is on top of him. When black starts filling your vision you can hear Jungkook yelling, he drags you to the cab and gets you on the backseat. Perfect timing. There you recoil and think.

On the way home you both don’t talk. You want to ask him if he’s okay but the hardness of his gaze stops you. You come to the conclusion that he is mad at you, every night that you had together finishes somehow badly. It's not the first time you get laughed at, the both of you being used to their mean comments you usually just go on, it had never led to a physical fight.

In the worn backseat you start crying. You know he probably hears you sniffle behind him but he doesn’t address it, which only makes you sob louder. He doesn’t care about you, not romantically and not friendly. When the taxi comes to a stop you quickly get out and realize that you’re not in front of your house, the doorsteps to his studio come to your vision making you want to scream.

“Why the fuck am I at your house?” the bitterness of your voice leaves Jungkook gobsmacked, you’re angry at him he understands it. He feels feverish staring at your face, red eyes and runny nose stare back at him. Were you crying for him?

“I thought that given what happened you didn’t want to sleep alone” you nod and relax your shoulders, your body feels at ease like it suddenly hit water and floated to the surface. But your mind seems to disagree, the need to refuse his offer on the tip of your tongue, the goose bumps on your skin convince you otherwise. His apartment is warm, more than yours would be in a night like this, you sigh tired beyond limits. Jungkook disappears in his room, you decide to not investigate to not hurt your feelings further and you sink on the sofa. Sleep getting the best of you and giving you some needed rest.

What wakes you it's him hissing and grunting, making jolt out of your place and run towards him. When you barge through the door you find him facing the mirror his eyeliner smudged and the cut on his lips crusty with dried blood. When his eyes settle on you he quickly avoids your gaze, but it doesn’t stop you from getting the cotton ball full of alcohol out of his hands and throw it. He shrugs and chugs the brown liquid before sighting sadly, as if someone was pushing on his stomach hard enough to make him exhale all that air.

“You should use something else”

“I only have this bourbon” comes his immediate response.

Strangers. You feel awkward telling him to get a chair so you can help him clean up, never in your years of friendship you felt like an outsider but as he settles the chair in silence you can’t help but to feel so. When he sits the lights of the bathroom finally lets you see the damage done to his face, a sigh of relief leaves your mouth. Aside from the cut on his lips and light bruising on his cheek you can’t see anything else.

“Were you expecting worse?” his eyes finally meet yours, you nod cleaning lightly his cheek “You know what you’re doing, it feels better when you do it” soft eyelashes flutter at his words. He is apologising, since you were kids it has been his way of being sorry. Big eyes and a pout is all that took him to be forgiven by you. This time is different, far from the simplicity of a stolen spoon of ice cream, you want to hear him say sorry. To be sorry .“The silent treatment, huh?” you scoff and start cleaning his mouth.

Full lips parted waiting for you, far from his hard stare you let your fingertips touch the soft skin. Jungkook winces slightly as if waiting for the burn of the alcohol not the softness of your caress. He doesn't move after that and lets you indulge in your fantasy, it doesn’t occur to you that your thumb is pushing past his lips to settle on top of his tongue until the wet muscle touches you. You gasp and try to move your hand as fast as possible, his teeth sinking on your finger keeping it in place. His tongue moves around your digit and sucks the life out of it, you tell yourself that he likes the taste of bourbon that is lingering on your skin.

When he opens his eyes his jaw suddenly goes slack but you don’t find it in yourself to drag your finger out of his mouth. So you stay in that position, outside the sun is starting to light up the sky through the curtains. The light reflects on every shiny surface, a snowstorm of dust dancing in the apartment. A car outside honks and you jump surprised clutching your hand, against your erratic heart. How you wished to be outside, under the cold sun.

“I’m sorry” he offers you a sad look, his hands pressing against his thighs as if cleaning all the sweat that they collected. You know better, his anxiety habits being close to your heart. Brown orbits follow your gaze, stopping every movement he was doing.

“I know you are” comes your reply

“I really am”

Jungkook opens his mouth slightly and then he closes it. He knows he shouldn't do it, yet his hand comes to your hips and tug you towards him, fingers digging into the rough material of your jeans. You tip your head making your face hover his.

“For what?” His hands fall on his sides, he has shown you everything that he could.

He offers you his palms up, they say ‘read through the lines about my future’. What does it hold for us? Lovers, friends or strangers?

“Kiss me?” he whispers against you, soft breath warming your lips. The question lingers in the air, it dances between the two of you. Soft limbs press against each other.

“You don’t want me to” his eyes are fierce long lashes bat before you, tongue poking at his cheek. His nose finds yours and swipes against it.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn't want it” he purrs and presses his lips against yours. The kiss is messy and far from what you had dreamed of in the years. He was ravishing you not tasting you, disappointed and surprised you decided that you liked it. The bourbon tang moves from him to you, and you blame the alcohol for the quickness with which you’ve forgiven Jungkook. His tongue plunges in your mouth, and you find yourself thinking about the softness that you had experienced against your finger in contrast with the rawness of it now. Plump lips work against each other for longer than you think.

“You taste of bourbon” you mumble as he detaches from you, he smiles and grabs your face caressing your cheeks. His lips kiss the apple of your cheeks, and then your eyes pressing lightly against them. He chuckles as you eyelashes tickle him, as you open your eyes you find him smiling so dumbly that if you didn’t know better you’d think this is the most beautiful day in his life.

“I think you taste like me” he says before getting up and pushing you to be the one sitting on the chair.

Switched roles. You gasp when he falls to his knees and starts unbuttoning your pants, his lips plant themselves on your tummy as if sucking the life out of it. His eyes don’t leave yours, your gut twists at the fastness of his movement, when your thighs are free from the tight confinement his face pushes against them. Jungkook closes his eyes enjoying the softness of them, how would he love to sleep on them forever. how easy would it be to die there. Your fingers ruffling his hair are enough to wake him from his reverie and start kissing your inner thigh with a new fund intensity.

He trails his open mouth kisses to your clothed core, which receives a soft caste kiss as if it was the cheek of his mother. Wanting to ask him if he really means that gentle gesture,if he sees you as a delicate creature worth the tenderness. You need to bite hard on your tongue to stop yourself from ruining the moment. His next actions give you an answer.

You never deemed Jungkook as the rough type and neither the soft type, in your mind he was passionate. Hot skin melting under his touch. In the years it had happened that you heard others enjoying his company, dreaming to be them you indulged in the fantasy that he was an intense lover. Not too much and not too little. As his fingers tear your underwear and his tongue finds your most sensitive pearl, you can see how much you were wright. You can feel it in the fervor in which he is eating you out, the hard muscle working on your insides as his nose keeps stimulating your bundle of nerves.

“Take this off” he tugs on your revealing top, that you had worn in the hopes of an event like this “Wanna see your tits”. He doesn’t give you time to think about a mouthy answer diving back to your moist cunt, your legs shake against his shoulders while hard teeth start nibbling at your soft labia. You take off your last garment without any complaints, Jungkook smiles against your heated mound and detaches himself from you. Wet strings follow on his face, a moan leaves your mouth.

The cocky smile that tugs at his face doesn’t surprise you, knowing that Jungkook is used to winning. To be good at anything of that matter, he thrives of what makes him understand that he is the best. He knows he is good and he knows that you love it. The thought makes you shamefully more aroused than what it should.

“You have such a pretty pussy” two of his fingers spreading your wet lips, they move to circle the tight hole collecting your juices and then start pushing inside “So tight for me ...” . Jungkook loses you right there, overwhelmed from the fast pace you don’t hear him saying the last words. “...only for me”

You hum and then scream when his mouth finds your nipple and starts sinking his teeth into it, by the end of his work when he leaves your nipple to move to the other one you feel raw everywhere. From the tip of your sensitive boobs to your insides which are gripping so hard on Jungkook's hand that he thinks that you're going to break his fingers. He sees you nearing your end, the look on your face, the delicate moans that leave your mouth spur him to start going impossibly faster. His lips find your clit, making you cry out loud the lord's name

“I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum right now Guk” you keep chanting his name, the only word that bounces in your brain “Fuck, fuck” you whine as he keps the same pace. Jungkook is amazed when he sees your orgasm face, the lonely nights in which his hand had helped him get through his impossible feelings for you he imagined something else. When you cum your mouth opens to what seems like the most relaxed expression to ever touch your face, he cant help to hope to see you always this rested and calm.

You spasm and cry his name once again. Your toes are painfully curled against his back and your spine is so curved that you think you might develop a disease with how long you stay in that position. His fingers work you through your climax keeping a steady pace, when overstimulation starts to settle in you move from the imaginary cast that you created. As you come back to your senses you feel too naked and vulnerable, your hands come instantly to your stomach as your eyes drop to the floor. You showed your all to him and as he stares at between your legs you almost want to tell him your deepest secrets.

“Don’t cover yourself” he tugs on your arms that are firmly planted to your skin “I love your body”. You give him a tight smile knowing well that it wasn’t about your appearance, if only he loved you.... Is it bad to want something that someone doesn’t want?

He knows why you’re suddenly so tense but he isn’t ready to talk about it, Jungkook wants just to feel you and as he's getting up his hands snake under your arms bringing you flush against him. As if he always did it, his head falls on your shoulder as he holds your naked body, he shifts his weight rhythmically singin so faintly that you find it difficult to even understand him, let alone understand him. His lips hover on your shoulder, hot breath making you squirm in his hands. Again he has succeeded in calming your pained heart.

“You’re so perfect” he whisper against your ear

“but not for you” you breathe discouraged

“yes, for me”. And I’ll show you, he thinks but doesn’t say. As if nothing happened his lips search for yours and they find them waiting for him, you sight on his mouth. The frown that was deeply creasing your forehead relaxes.

He walks backwards holding you until he touches his bed and sits down bringing you on top of him. Painfully dressed, the rough material of his jeans press onto you so harshly that you whimper way too loudly. His hands, that now are resting on your ass, squeeze it and then slap it playfully. He almost breaks his neck trying to get a glimpse of the ripples of your flesh. You pull on his shirt trying to get him out of it, the tight black turtleneck doing wonders for his figure, he shreds the piece of clothing not before making you laugh as he gets his head stuck. Once uncovered he falls back to his back giving you access to his unmarked body, ravishing the sight of him so pliable under you as your mouth presses against his hot skin.

When you notice them, two lines like a railway leading to nowhere. Two long scars. Your heart jumps out of his place with sorrow and what you think is defeat. You arrived too late, someone had already hurt him. Lips aching to kiss it better, at least until the pain is gone. Erased from the face of the earth, you find yourself wanting to hurt who made him think less of himself. You knew of them, of course you knew, after all you were the first call that his mother had made that disgustingly sad day.

“I’m sorry”. I’m sorry for what happened to you. Sorry that you felt so alone to think that no one was going to miss you. Sorry to not have been there, to not have noticed.

“I know you are” his nails are now scratching lightly the skin of your thighs. You know it's not like that, but you can’t help yourself to think that's a punishment. You hope that his finger cut you, digging through your muscles permanently damaging you. So that you could understand what he feels, and he would understand how deeply you feel for him.

“I really am” shame grips you so strongly that your eyes fail to stay open and look at him

“Don’t cry about it”, you gasp as you realize the wetness on your cheeks. “It happened a long time ago”. Birds are chirping outside and he smiles collecting your tears and kissing each of your fingertips.

“Besides I really need you now, please”. Jungkook is impossibly hard and your boiling sex against him, makes him want to tear his closes to tiny peaces until they don’t exist anymore. His fingers force you down on your hips, pressing himself closer to you.

His tongue is reckless in mouth, pushing past your teeth and dancing with you own. Jungkook delivers the sloppiest kiss that he can give you, pushing his, still clotheted, erect cock into you.

“Want to feel you” you huff, your fingers struggling with the tightness of his trousers. More skin comes into your vision; you cannot stop your mind from screaming to worship him. You take in a breath so intense that it tickles your chest, his eyes are waiting for you as soft whines leave his mouth. On your knees you start praying that no one will ever see what you're seeing, will never see him that sweaty and needy. A mole on his knee catches your attention so much that you find yourself kissing it, and so to each of his little beauty marks. You slowly work your way up until you’re kissing him. His bottom lip is as soft as a pillow after a stressful day.

Chest to chest nipples rubbing against each other, you take hold of him. It pulses in your hands as it finally gets the attention that it deserves, it looks painfully pleasurable neglected for so long that when you look at it the tip has a flushed color to it. His hand finds yours and guides your movements, as his thighs tremble. Your thumb plays on his slit as he moans throwing back his head

“So fucking good” he grips your hips and pushes his thigh in between your legs. “Can you ride my thigh? Fuck cherub that would be so hot”. He rolls his eyes so hard that he nearly loses sight as you put all of your weight on the taunt muscle, the wetness in between your legs permits you to move so smoothly that he’d think you’ve done it you’re entire life. You can feel his dick rubbing against your upper thigh.

His finger comes up to your nipples, pinching and rolling them. Your heart starts beating faster, the feeling of a new orgasm building makes you slump forward and press your forehead against his. Jungkook would love to be a sponge right now, just to absorb all of your thoughts. Was he what you had imagined? Your second orgasm is more dull in comparison to the first, still better than any escaparedes that you had in the years. Jungkook bats his eyelashes waiting for your next move, his arms holding your trembling body up.

“You’re so patient” is the first thing that you say “such a good boy” he purrs at your words, nose scrunching at your praise. He is a complete mess from the black locks falling on his eyes, bruised skin to his raw lips.

It would be a shame not to kiss them, you would be disappointed in yourself if your lips didn’t impress themselves on his forever. Profoundly interconnected like time and space. As you whimper against him his hands travel to hold your head against his, even as you start to struggle breathing you keep kissing him. When you feel your lungs screaming for oxygen you break out of his hold but his fingers that now are on your hair tug roughly on your scalp. You cry, pain mixes with pleasure as your head falls back and gives finally Jungkook the access that he needed to devour you.

He wants you to have his marks for a long time, he sucks on your neck as if his life depended on it. His teeth nip on the abused skin and a smile stretches on his face thinking of you the next day checking the damage that he had done. If he could Jungkook would cover you in hickes, from head to toe.

The power dynamic has changed, now you’re the one who is squirming and fighting against his mouth. As he flips you to have you on your back, you can only be impressed by his force and drool over the sight of his biceps flexing. How can someone be so fucking hot?

“Missionary, huh? Isn’t it a bit basic” you ask as he starts rubbing his tip against your sodden folds.

“You better close your mouth cherub” He pushes on your hip making you twist your lower half and give him the perfect view of your ass. A hard slap echoes through the room and then another one, finally Jungkook can see the jiggle of your soft body coming to the conclusion that you’re an otherworldly creature.

He holds one of your legs up and thrust in your tight walls, as he bottoms out you both shiver from the contact. “So deep” you keep blabbering as you squeeze your breast holding them from moving too much. Sweat is collecting on his temples and it shines on his bronzed skin as kisses given from the gods. He is relentless, his crown kissing your cervix with how roughly his ramming inside you dragging his cock so perfectly in you think you're ascending the material world. Your hands leave your chest to find his and quickly pass on his little buds, he growls and lets your leg fall to his side probably tired.

Jungkook drops on you, hips flush against yours, stomach against stomach, heart against heart. Forearms on the sides of your head he picks up a destructive pace, hitting right on your g spot, stimulated beyond limits you can only kiss him. His hands find yours and enterwine, you’re so close that you start feeling claustrophobic. Buried under the weight of your deepest desire.

“Are you going to cum for me?” your spasming also are enough of a response and the screech that comes out of your mouth is so lustful that he starts throbbing inside of you

“Fuck, can I cum inside you”

“yes, please” White stars are spotting your vision, he seems an angel to your hazed mind. The experience is so shocking, that you can’t even call it an orgasm. Your brain floats, intoxicated with his smell.

“Gonna fill you up so good Cherub” you humm at his words as he suddenly stops, he is impossibly deep inside you when he spills, so much that you think you’re going to bear his child. He rolls to your side panting like a dog after chasing his favourite toy in the mud. You feel dirty as the piercing air hits your skin, no longer hidden from his fraim you shiver.

He stays like a dead body for a few minutes, when his eyes open and his chest starts moving you feel oddly satisfied. Your nakedness no longer a concern you reach to kiss him and he welcomes obediently, his hand coming to take you closer to him.

“Can we stay like this forever?” he sighs and squeezes you. Doesn’t he know? How can someone be so oblivious?

“If you wanted we could” you whisper. Finger sinking onto him in the desperate try to not let go of him

“I don’t mean it in that way”

“Then which way?” Which way do you perceive me; friends, lovers or strangers?

Life is beginning outside, you can hear the commotion. Kids screaming, students laughing, the workers hurried steps. You can hear it all, but his reply. Your work is done, you quickly get up straightening your back and turn around. Leaving his warm embrace feels like being born again, being thrown into a pool and not knowing how to swim.

You tug your now cold clothes back to their original place running to the door while he calls your name, scrambling to get your coat and shoes you fall and get quickly up. Your knee sting and you're sure that you'd find them bloody if you looked at them. The fist breath of air feels hot as if breathing through fire, thousands of needles poking at your lungs.

“For god's sake can you wait?” he is scrunching holding himself against his knees “I like you. No, screw that I love you but I cannot do this to you”. Surprise washes over your features over the sudden confession as you try to reach for him he takes a step back and continues. “I cannot let you fall for me because I can’t guarantee that I’ll always be there”

This time when you cry tears are falling freely, the reality of what is happening starts to sink in and you feel like you’ll be crying forever. A tap broken on the hottest setting, so when you try to fix it you’ll be left in excruciating pain.

“You should find someone else, someone who cares so much for you that wants to stay alive”

“But I already love you” you love him so much that the extent of your love scares you. So firmly rooted in your heart that if this love is eradicated from you, you’ll be left as empty soil. Moist land without seeds.

“Then you shouldn’t”

It’s 10 a.m, the air is cold and breaths puff up as soft clouds in the air, walking in silence you’re feeling overwhelmed by what happened in the few hours that you had with him leaving you alone on this cold day.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #curvy!reader #chubby!reader #bts jungkook #bts smut #bts angst #jungkook angst #friends to lovers #plus size!reader #bts x chubby reader

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Love is a Polaroid

Summary: Tom posts the first picture of you on Instagram. 

Pairing: Tom Holland x female reader

Warnings: None

-

“What about...” Tom scrolled through his phone as you sat sideways in his lap, your legs over the couch and your back against the arm. “This one?” 

“I look terrible,” you groaned. It was a picture of you and Tom, your noses scrunched up as you laughed at something he said. Tom rolled his eyes, kissing you right at the end of your eyebrow. 

“You look gorgeous, princess. What about this one then?” He scrolled to another one, of the two of you together on a golf course. You were being his caddy girl, something he’d teased you about for days after he saw that you had bought a short skirt for it. You shook your head at that one too and grabbed his phone, scrolling through pictures of the two of you. You’d finally told him you were ready to go public, mostly because you were getting so sick of people trying to figure out who you were at the same time that they assumed Tom was with Zendaya or one of his PA’s that he’d been seen at a restaurant with. 

You knew there was going to be some kind of feedback, good and bad. You’d set your Instagram to private already, just knowing how many people would try to follow you and DM you. Tom had contacted Disney to put you through media training a month or so ago and his agents had given you the all clear. You were just nervous. You wanted the world to know that you were with Tom because he was funny and brilliant and talented beyond belief. But you were also terrified. You were only nineteen, so a good bit younger than Tom. You had been Paddy’s best friend for years, but Tom hadn’t even thought about making a move on you until you were nineteen. And then things had just gotten very serious very quickly. You moved in with him only after a few months, mostly because he needed someone to take care of the house and the dog while he was gone. 

The bottom line was that you loved Tom and you knew he loved you. You were certain of that more than your own name some days. But you were nervous, and you had to have the perfect picture. The perfect one to tell the entire world that you loved him. 

“Okay, this one isn’t the worst,” you said finally. It was actually a really, really cute picture of the two of you. You were at a party, Tom behind you with his arms around your neck. He was smiling at the camera as he kissed your cheek and you were smiling, too. You remembered feeling on top of the world that night because it was the night Tom had told you he loved you for the first time - he’d told you he loved you when he thought you were asleep. And then he’d snuck out of your parents’ window even though you had told him a million times that he could just go out the front door. It was a polaroid-style picture, put through several filters to get the right look to it. You loved editing photos. 

“I look like a div.”

“You are a div,” you giggled. 

“Oh, you’ll pay for that.” He started tickling your stomach until you dropped the phone on his knuckle and he finally quit, just pulling you into a hug. 

“Let’s caption it,” he said. “I’m trying to think.” 

“I don’t know, it’s your Instagram,” you shrugged. 

“How about...” Tom bit down on his lip as he typed. He turned the phone to you a few seconds later. Love is a Polaroid it said. You looked over at him, finally nodding. He hit the post button and took your phone from where it was in the pocket of your sweatshirt. He put his phone on top of it, then put them down on the coffee table. 

“Why?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Because. I always stop looking after I post something. It’s better just not to look unless it’s someone you know commenting.” You looked down at where one of his hands was playing with your watch, absentmindedly changing the face of it by scrolling through the gallery. 

“What if people...” 

“What if people what? All that matters is that I love you, okay? Not what anyone else thinks.” You nodded and he kissed the center of your forehead, dropping the topic as you started another episode of New Girl. A few minutes later he took a call from his agent and made sure to take your phone with him. But he didn’t take your phone when he went to take a shower a couple of hours later. 

You eyed your phone as you cooked dinner, seeing it light up every few seconds with another Instagram notification. The shower had just started, just as you were done with the instant pot, so you walked over to the table and grabbed your phone. You were too busy looking at Instagram to realize that the shower water had stopped. And when you did look, you wished you hadn’t. Most of the comments were saying aww or they’re so cute! or i ship it!! But some of them didn’t say that at all. 

wtfffff she’s literally like twelve

isn’t that illegal????

do better, thomas 😂

she’s not it 🤡

cradle robber

it’s bad enough that it’s borderline illegal but she’s not even cute...

yeah, love is a strong word

You scrolled through the seat of comments, each one worse than the last. Most of them were positive. But the negative ones made the tears come to your eyes and before you knew it, you were hunched over on the couch, crying your eyes out. You were getting snot on Tom’s favorite pink hoodie, one he barely ever let you borrow even though he always said anything for my princess. You were sitting on Tom’s couch, wondering if you should leave. Wondering if you should go up and steal his phone and take the picture down, even though the damage had already been done. 

“What are you doing?” Tom asked as he walked down the stairs just wearing a pair of boxers. His hair was soaking wet. He’d heard you crying. His eyes were wide in alarm, thinking something else was wrong. 

“I know you said not to, but...” you mumbled through a sniffle. He sat down beside you and grabbed the phone, shaking his head. 

“Babe, they’re just...”

“I’m not good enough for you.” 

“No, don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.” He shut your phone off and tossed it onto the other side of the couch. “Don’t ever say that. I love you. I love you so much, you know that.”

“But they think...”

“They think. They don’t know. Nobody knows anything except for you and me.” He put his fingers in your hair and pulled your face to his shoulder, deciding that maybe it was just best to let you cry until you were calm. There was no sense in trying to talk to you if you were all worked up. He just let you cry, holding your head to his neck. Your mascara rubbed off on the hood of his sweatshirt, but he didn’t care. It would wash out. He made sure your eyes were closed as he looked through the post, sighing. He responded to some of the good ones, but he knew removing that bad ones were useless. They'd just come back. 

“You know people are always gonna be mean like that,” he said a few minutes after you’d seemed to calm down. “And the worst part about it is that I can’t protect you from it. But what I can protect you from is thinking that about yourself. You don’t think that, right?”

“I don’t know what I think. I just know I love you but...”

“The rest of the world thinks they own me, but they don’t. You do, okay? None of this is going to change my mind or make me think differently of you, because it’s not you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you finally said back. He smiled at you.

“You look so pretty in that picture, princess.” You couldn’t help but smile back, leaning into him as he gave you a quick kiss. “And I’m glad the rest of the world knows you’re mine, ‘cause I don’t want to think you could ever be anyone else’s.” 

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland x female reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

give it to me good, you know i won’t get sick.

summary: some smut in the car.

warnings: cheating, age gap, spanking, some light choking.

word count: about 5,750

pairing: andy barber  x reader

a/n: fun fact, i wasn’t even going to write this scene. i was just going to move on but then i started and it created itself really. not done with this but i don’t know where it’s going next.

part 1 x

Waiting for Andy felt like an eternity, yet you also felt like it was happening too soon, racing at you and you could do nothing to prepare. Not necessarily in the sense that you didn’t want this with him, but that you wanted to feel a little more grounded. This was impulsive and you felt exposed, more vulnerable than you had ever been. You wouldn’t have done it for any other guy, which was a problem because this guy was a married father.

But you couldn’t think like that, you couldn’t stop and actually consider your actions. The best-case scenario was that you would stop and run for the hills. However, you doubted that outcome since your body ached at the mere thought of walking away from this and denying yourself any time you could spend with Andy. The worst-case scenario was that you wouldn’t stop at all, that even if you paused to really think about all that could go wrong, that you still wouldn’t care, that you were simply that selfish.

Never, more than in that moment, were you thankful for the huge, old, ugly car your father had given you. You had folded down the back seats and now you were laying in the spacious back, staring at the ceiling of your car. If someone were to approach you, there would be little modesty left of the situation. You were waiting for someone with a dildo in your cunt. It was utterly black and white.

You heard Andy’s car pull up and propped up on your elbows. He watched you closely as he parked his car behind yours and got out. It should have been illegal how beautiful he was in a simple white t-shirt and jeans.

He glanced around carefully, ensuring that there wasn’t a soul around before he climbed into your car. He closed the hatchback door and sat off to the side, silently watching you.

You arched an eyebrow. Certainly, he didn’t expect you to make the first move. That sentiment must have been written clearly across your face because he smirked a little.

“Show me.” Even with his request, he was the one that folded your skirt up. But because you were his good girl, you spread your legs for him.

His eyes locked on the sight and he sighed. “God, baby doll, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Are you going to fuck me with it, daddy?”

Finally, his eyes met yours and that awestruck look was gone. Andy was in charge here and neither of you would have it any other way. That meant that it was time to put slip back into his place of comfort, his safe setting of immense restraint. “Where’s the towel?”

“Front seat.”

He hummed, one hand pressing to your bare calf and sliding up as he leaned forward. He moved so that he was almost hovering over you, dragging his hand up your thigh, your stomach, grazing your breast, and then cupping your jaw. “We need to establish some rules.”

You scoffed. “Why?”

“Why?” he echoed almost incredulously. “Because you evidently need some discipline.”

Discipline—such a bland word that suddenly became much sexier. “If you give me rules, I’m just going to break them.”

“Not these,” he asserted. “Here’s the deal. If you tell me to stop, I will, no questions asked, no explanations necessary. If you ever feel uncomfortable, if I’m hurting you, you need to let me know. Do you understand me?”

You didn’t voice your confusion, he looked unwilling to bargain over the concepts “uncomfortable” and “hurting” anyway. But honestly, what did he mean? The idea of him ever touching you and you wanting him to stop seemed extremely unlikely. He kept his eyes on your face, patiently waiting for your answer. It was clear that nothing would occur without your agreement. “Okay. I understand.”

He moved up and reached into the front. “I said to bring a towel, not twenty.”

You’d brought three, just in case. “I wanted to be prepared.”

He scoffed, looking back at you. “Cute, but I’m not fucking you here. Not the first time, at least.”

“Oh, because your office desk will be so much better? Or the couch? So classy.”

“Don’t worry about the future. You should be completely focused on the fact that you’re not going to be able to sit for the next two weeks.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

He arched an eyebrow, spreading one towel out at his side. “You trying to go for three?”

“Maybe longer,” you suggested. “I haven’t decided.”

He smiled a little, looked down to hide it. “Well, I’d pay your debt before you start adding onto it. You’re already in trouble for getting me here.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to be here, daddy?” you spoke in a small voice, a warning. If he wanted to physically hurt you, you were into that. If he was going to imply that this was not something he wanted, well, that would hurt your feelings. That looked much different and you were a lot less nice.

He looked at you sincerely. “No place I’d rather be, beautiful. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how dangerous this is.”  He leaned over you again, pulling your thighs further apart. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” you admitted and laid back against the seat. “But not bad.”

He grabbed the base of the toy and pulled it out of you.

You bit down on your lip, watching his eyes as they stared right down at your pussy. It didn’t hurt as much since you were so humiliatingly wet, the noise of it echoing in the car.

“Open your mouth.”

You did so immediately.

He placed the head of the fake cock on your tongue and pushed it in until you brought a hand up to his forearm. He’d touched the back of your throat and you wanted to let him know. “Close your mouth.”

You wrapped your lips around it, sucking lightly as he took it back. Once more, centimeter by centimeter, he pressed it back in and kept going until your body arched and you choked on it.

As he moved between your legs, he left the toy resting in your mouth. He set his hands over your thighs, keeping you open, and then you felt his tongue press flat against your pussy. Any sound you made was muffled by what was in your mouth.

He dragged his tongue up and your hands frantically reached down to his head. When he touched your clit, you swore you saw stars. He abruptly sat up, taking your wrists in his hands and you were quickly confused. Smirking, he kissed both of your palms. “Sorry, baby, you did say one quick, little taste.”

Your eyes widened at him. What the hell did that mean?

He moved back off to the side and pulled the toy from your mouth. After he set it on the towel, he told you to sit up. Another towel was laid out where you had been laying. “Okay, lie down, turn over and let me see that ass.”

You eagerly laid back down on your front side now, pulling your skirt up for him.

One of his hands trailed over the curve of your ass and you shivered. “Oh, daddy…”

He leaned into the front seat again and grabbed the last towel. “Open your mouth.”

Trying to change Andy’s mind was an impossible thing, but you were a little nervous. You’d never been spanked before, you’d never been gagged before. You’d never been with him before. This was a lot that was new, but you did it anyway because you wanted to make him happy.

He shoved a portion of the towel into your mouth and then bundled it up so you could lay your head down, which you did. “Give me your hand.”

When you pressed your palm to his, he linked his fingers between yours. “Okay, squeeze my hand once. That means stop.” You tried it out, nodding after. “Now squeeze twice, that means keep going.” Once more, you tried it.

“You understand?”

You nodded.

“You ever need me to stop or slow down, squeeze my hand once, okay?”

You nodded.

He moved closer to you and lifted your hips so he could drape you over his lap.

You closed your eyes, rolling onto your forehead from your cheek. If you moved, even a little, there was pressure from his thigh that you could feel on your clit. So, you did, you circled your hips, whining every time you pressed down right.

He swatted your skin lightly, a test smack but it startled you into remaining still. There was barely even a lingering sting. “Stop that,” he warned. “That wasn’t too hard?”

You shook your head.

“Do you want harder?”

You nodded.

The next spank on the opposite cheek was just that and so much noisier. Your body jerked away from the impact, eyes snapping open and immediately filling with tears. That was the kind of burn you were looking for.

“That was okay?”

You nodded as fast as you could and squeezed his hand twice.

“Do you know why daddy is spanking you?” You didn’t respond, so he continued. “Because you were being a tease. You’re not going to do that again, are you?”

You shrugged your shoulders as best you could and the next second his hand came down on your ass. Your squeal was drowned out by the echo of the slap. Your skin where he had hit you felt prickly and hot.

“Are you going to tease again?”

Instead of being cute, you nodded. Yes, you would tease him any chance you got. Because he liked it, because it made him want you. Because you were a fucking brat.

He spanked you again and your eyes fluttered shut. Your skin already felt raw and sensitive, but you saw yourself begging for more for at least the next ten minutes.

He smacked you several more times in silence. You were whimpering and whining, writhing and sore, and a tad overwhelmed—but you were not the kind of person who would ever tap out—and he was simply there, calm, collected, and in total control.

The sensations, that you were unable to see his face, that you couldn’t talk and probably misbehave, that was why you were overwhelmed. It wasn’t because this wasn’t enjoyable, you’d merely never given yourself to someone this way. You knew you never would again, not unless it was for Andy.

When he noticed you were crying, he ran his palm over your aching ass. “You need me to stop?”

You squeezed his hand twice, without thought or hesitation. The idea of him stopping now, of him getting in his car and driving away, you couldn’t bear it. Maybe you should have asked him to stop, but the sooner that happened, the sooner he would be gone.

“Are you sure?”

You squeezed again, much harder this time.

He smacked you fast and then gripped that cheek in his hand. “You are soaking my pants right now, angel. You like getting your perfect little ass spanked by daddy?”

You nodded.

“What about your pussy? You want me to spank you there?”

Oh, god.

“Spread your legs wide if you do.”

Instantly, you were parting your thighs until your shin reached the side of the car, then you bent your knees and yanked your legs up as high as you could. You tried to brace yourself, you tried to tell yourself you knew how it was going to feel, you were wrong. As he smacked his hand flat against you, fingers curling under and hitting your clit, your body spasmed. The pain was immediate but ended quickly, only to be replaced with the painfully consuming desire for it to happen again.

Your hips jerked back, lifting off Andy’s lap, and your knees dug into the rough lining in the back of your car.

“Careful, princess,” he warned. He pressed you back down with a hand on your ass. He took that same hand and reached under to rub one of your knees. “You liked that?”

You nodded, moaning around the towel.

He extracted his hand from yours. “Open your mouth.” Once you had, he pulled the towel away. He yanked you up, turning you to face him. “You bring the other things I tell you?”

Lotion, you had set it under all the towels so your reckless driving wouldn’t throw it under the seat. The panties you had been wearing throughout the day before you had arrived home to find his gift, those were on the seat, too. The other little toy you had missed the first time in the box he sent you, a gorgeous baby pink plug with a gemstone heart at the end. The toy cleaner, of course.

“Yes.”

He leaned around the seat and returned with the lotion. “Come here.”

You crawled closer to him, trying to avoid your sensitive knees. You had scratched them up quite terribly.

He took one of your hands and lifted you onto your knees. He poured some lotion on his hand and reached around you to pull your skirt up with the opposite.

You fought the urge to squirm when you felt cold on your stinging skin.

“That feel better?”

“Yeah.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“It does,” you promised, “just hurts a little.”

“You want to use the plug another day?”

Hell no. You’d never experienced want like this. You’d never felt your body so greedy, so willing and ready to be filled as much as possible. It was a longing to be complete. “Doesn’t hurt that much.”

He scoffed. “You’re such a good little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you agreed.

“Always ready for what daddy wants to give you.”

“Are you going to kiss your good little girl, daddy?”

He wrapped an arm around the small of your back and pulled you closer.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and settled your chest against his. “Please kiss me, daddy.”

His hand touched your face slowly, so softly, all to tuck some hair behind your ear. He pressed his palm to your cheek and leaned in.

At the risk of sounding uncaring of your autonomy and desires, you only wanted what Andy wanted you to have. Did you always wish for his hand around your neck, fingers in your mouth, cock in your pussy, even if he wasn’t currently handing you all of that wrapped in a huge bow? Yes. But would you ask for it? Not unless promoted. You wanted to be spoiled, showered in attention and his touch, but you did not want to have to ask for it. You expected it, so, as if you were some innocent, submissive, you waited for him with the patience of a saint.

That resolve shattered when his lips barely brushed yours. You were like a match that had been lit. You moved closer to straddle him and his hand draped down your back where he grabbed your ass over your tiny skirt. It soon became this filthy, open-mouthed exchange of oxygen and obscene, desperate sounds. You pulled at his top lip and he at your bottom in what was clearly a power struggle. One that he did not intend to lose, which you should have expected.

You sat down on his lap and only managed to roll your hips once before he had his hand tangled in your hair and yanked you back.

As he carefully laid you down, he was growling words into your neck between tiny kisses and bites. “This is why I can’t give you anything. You take and take like the greedy little brat that you are.”

He settled his torso between your thighs, forearms set on either side of your head. As his mouth sought yours out again, you brought both hands down and pressed them to his stomach. Even through his shirt, you could feel the muscle there, but you wanted more. When his tongue was moving in your mouth, you yanked his shirt up and touched him, humming in satisfaction at all the dips and hard skin you felt.

Your hips had only bucked once, your soaking pussy barely grazing his skin before he set his weight fully onto you and pinned you down completely. You had wanted him to kiss you, but you didn’t have the highest opinions of kissing in general. Up to that point of your life, it was solely to fill the time that it took you and whoever you were fucking to undress.

Andy was much different. He accused you of taking advantage of what he gave but he demanded. He didn’t ask, he saw you as his, his little girl, his possession. He kissed you and he made it count because this could end at any time. Someone could stumble along this scene right now and it would all fall apart.

He was the one who pulled away, kissing your chin, the tip of your nose, and one last parting peck on your lips. He traced your cheekbone with his fingers as he stared at you, considering his next move for a moment. “Get on my lap.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Once he was sitting back on the heels of his feet, you nearly lunged at him. Before you could get too close, he caught you by the waist and turned your back to him. When you sat down, he brushed a hand through your hair several times before grabbing a handful and yanking the back of your head onto his shoulder. Then, he draped your thighs around his and spread his legs to open your pussy for him.

He slowly rolled your skirt up and turned down. “You’re dripping, sweetheart.” He massaged the inside of your thigh with one hand for a few moments, watching your face as he did. When he smacked your pussy again, you cried out sharply, grabbing at his thighs for some balance.

“Daddy!” you whined. “Do it again, please.”

He did so twice, one directly after the other. To prevent you from moving away from him too much, he wrapped his free arm around your waist and held you down. He waited then, letting you settle against him fully before he slapped you again.

Your legs tried to snap shut but his thighs were in the way. You tried to fold forward but he had you pinned against him. You had nothing to do but wait there until the pain subsided, which only made it last longer.

Once he was sure you were able to stay seated on your own, he let you go to grab the dildo. You bit your lip, whimpering as he brought it close. He spread your legs wider as he pressed the toy inside you. In mere seconds, you were squirming and moaning, pleading over and over, mindlessly ‘daddy, please’.

He knew when to stop, when the toy was about to get too big for you. He left it settled inside you, then brought his fingers up to your clit. Your eyes shut sometime during the agonizingly slow, barely-there circles, but snapped open when he smacked your cunt once more.

“Daddy,” you gasped, fingers digging into his jeans. You felt yourself pulsing around the toy, and if you moved enough you could hear it shifting because you were dripping.

Again, his arm wrapped under your breasts to hold you right where you were, then he took his opposite hand and slapped you five times, so fast that you only had a chance to cry out twice before he was rubbing more circles into your clit. “You like having your cunt spanked?”

“Yes, daddy,” you sighed. It made even those simples touches that you were used to, a billion times better. You’d fucked a lot of fingers, Andy’s included, but you were extra sensitive this time. Your skin was shocked by the contrast in how gentle he was one moment to how rough he was the next. “Daddy, I think I’m gonna come.”

“Not yet, baby.” He pulled his fingers away from you to grab the toy. He slid it out almost completely before he shoved it back in.

You threw your head back onto his shoulder. “Fuck me faster, daddy, please.”

He picked up this steady pace that wasn’t too much for you. He made sure to mark the spot on the fake cock where you could simply not fit anymore, he had his finger set there and sometimes you would feel it brush against you as he thrust the toy back in. He was careful, controlled, and you were reckless and wanting.

He stopped when he suspected you were getting too close and his hand came down on your pussy. He scoffed at how audibly wet you were, bringing that hand up to your cheek so he could grab your face and turn you to look at him. “You’re really making me want to fuck you.”

You knew he was bluffing but the thought still made your cheeks flush. You could not wait for the day you finally felt him inside you. You wondered how he would look at you during, after, if he would worship you even more. That prospect was thrilling.

“Pull up your shirt.”

He only let you go so you could yank your top over your breasts, but then his arm was wrapped right back around you. You were immeasurably thankful you hadn’t wanted to put on a bra earlier.

He let go of your face to grab one of your hands and brought it up to your nipple. He made you squeeze it between your fingers until it was barely tolerable and told you to do it on your own with your other breast. He watched you the entire time, this gleam in his eyes, this amazement that no one else had ever looked at you with.

You were pinching both nipples, tugging on them like he told you to, when he smacked between your legs again. He continued spanking you, several more times all rougher than the last, until you were crying out loud enough that he worried someone might hear you from outside the car.

His fingers took to circling your clit again and you were instantly so close. “You’ve been such an angel for me. The second that I can, I’m going to fuck you so good.”

“Daddy,” you whined. Now he was teasing—when? When was he going to fuck you? Did he honestly think the two of you were going to hold out until summer? You would let him fuck you anywhere. Anywhere. His house, yours. His bed, yours. Even your parents’ fucking bed wasn’t off-limits if you needed it. There were no limits, you were both insane. Selfish. Awful. Toxic.

“I’ll fuck you all over the house,” he promised. “I want you on my desk. I’ll bend you over and teach you to behave when you get bratty. You want that, baby? “

You nodded. “Yes, daddy.”

He smacked you and you shuddered. You were reaching the end, these small slaps were starting to feel good enough that you were officially seeing stars and feeling that familiar built-up tension that always preceded an orgasm. “What else do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want to ride you in your chair.” He hit you again and you fell apart against him. Your body was spent, your pussy was screaming for a release. You had been under the impression that it couldn’t get worse when you were in your bed, his voice over the phone telling you not to come, to wait a second. You were wrong. That was blissful, agonizing hell.

“What else?” he pressed.

You were breathless, shaking and waiting for him to smack you again. Your hips were trying to inch forward to meet his fingers, but he wouldn’t allow it. “I want you to choke me with your cock.”

And then he rewarded you with another strike. This continued, a generous hit after every admission, until you were slurring and crying, tears rolling down your cheeks, sobs sounding every time his hand contacted your cunt.

You told him you wanted him to tie you up, to wrap his hand around your throat, you wanted him in complete control of you. You told him you wanted him to fuck you in the shower, then in front of the bathroom mirror. You told him you wanted to sit on his cock while he was working and hold him there inside you. You told him you wanted him to lay you down on the kitchen table and eat your pussy.

You were out of your mind with need by the time you stopped speaking intelligibly, you just needed him to make you come. You felt like you were on the edge of insanity, you would go mad if he didn’t give you something.

His hand come up from your waist and circled around your neck. “You want to come, baby girl?”

You nodded, choking out, “Please.”

He settled you on the floor of the car, off his lap but his legs still prevented yours from closing. He spread you wide, his knees digging into yours, and smacked your pussy harder than he had ever before. When you were about to scream, his hand tightened around your neck so much that it caught in your throat. “Fuck yourself with the toy.”

Mindless, your hand dove down, frantically using it to aid in your orgasm. Your body was exhausted, shaking within seconds, still trying to recover from everything he’d done to you, overwhelmed by your approaching finish. “Daddy…”

“You close?”

“Yes, please! Please, I need you to make me come, daddy!”

He took the toy from your hand and used both hands to pleasure you. One was carefully sliding the toy in enough that it would hit that spot inside you, while the other was slapping against your clit with enough force that you were screaming and crying because you simultaneously wanted it to stop right then but also keep going for the rest of your life.

“I want you to come really hard, okay? Can you do that for me, princess?”

You did just that. There was no other way to describe it. It was like you had snapped like you were a rubber band. You held onto him so tight that your fingers cramped, you screamed and sobbed for him, your body jerked and spasmed without your permission and only in response to him. For a moment, you felt as if you were not your own, it was a display of submission and you enjoyed every disgusting, pathetic second of it.

He fucked you through your finish with the toy and you were too high to care that it hurt a little. “You’re still so fucking tight.”

And you’d gotten tighter while you were coming but he seemed unwilling to be sensitive to that. You understood why. It was all about his control and how it was slipping. Come summer, he wanted to fuck you. This was all prep, he would make sure your cunt was capable of taking him by the time he finally had you back in his home. However, you wanted to savor this because it probably wouldn’t happen again. You suspected more phone sex, more video chatting, more toys. This in-person thing was too risky.

“But I’m really wet,” you pointed out.

He hummed.

“So, if you did wanna fuck me right now—”

He pinched your thigh and you yelped. “Don’t even start that.”

“Start what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Don’t start teasing. Otherwise, I’ll have to bend you over my knee again.”

You bit your lip to hide your smirk.

He removed the toy from your pussy, bringing it up solely so you could see the mess you’d made of it. He lowered it, letting the tip drag down your pussy until it was right at your asshole. “Ever been fucked here?”

You shook your head. Your boyfriend? No, never. You didn’t trust him to know what he was doing enough that you would have any good experiences. So, you always pretended to be wildly against the idea.

He let the tip of the toy press into your tight hole. You tried to keep from moving too much but as soon as you felt the head stretch your asshole, your back arched. He pulled it out completely and you elected not to tell him that hurt, especially not since he repeated it several times and you simply needed more. Painful or not, you liked it, but you weren’t sure how much you were supposed to like it. None of your friends seemed particularly fond of it so you’d always presumed it would be a sexual act you would perform if you liked your partner enough, you never expected to like any part of it.

After he set the toy aside, he let you rest against him as he reached into the front seat for the rest of the items you’d brought along. You were sated and exhausted and felt no need to do anything other than cling to him.

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest. You had only touched a handful of times, but this didn’t feel weird or uncomfortable. You felt safe and you knew he would take pride in that. But maybe you needed to be the brakes, maybe you needed to make sure this didn’t cross an emotional line. Andy was so emotional, he seemed consumed by it sometimes, it made him such a great lawyer, father, husband at times. You wouldn’t change a thing, but you would be cautious where he was not.

After a few silent moments, he laid down with you. You were on his side, one of his thighs between yours, your arm draped over his stomach and your head on his shoulder. His hand started at your back, tracing small shapes into your skin over your shirt, then he reached into your hair and ran his fingers through it.

Your eyes fell shut when his opposite hand reached over and touched your thigh underneath your skirt. He massaged your skin up until he reached your pussy, then two of his fingers slipped into you. “Fuck, daddy!”

He kissed the top of your head. “Stay still, honey.” He slowly pulled those fingers out and brought them to your asshole. You shivered when you felt them. “You still want this?”

You nodded.

“We can do it another day.”

You shook your head. “I want it today.”

He pressed his first finger in and you gasped. He watched your face closely for any signs of discomfort that he didn’t think you would voice, still using the hand in your hair to keep you relaxed.

It felt weird for only a second. You were more cautious of your limits here, but you still wanted so much more of him. More fingers, his cock, anything you could possibly get from him.

He slowly and carefully moved his finger in and out of your ass until you shoved back toward his hand. He knew that was you asking for more, he gave you another finger.

You squirmed until you were comfortable, which only happened after your cunt had settled against his pants. As he pulled his fingers back, you would angle your hips forward to get stimulation for your clit. As he pushed in, you would press back to help him get in deeper.

Once he completely removed his fingers, you felt the plug pressing against your hole. “You sure you can take it?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He impatiently pushed it all the way in and your hand clutched at his chest. For a moment, there was not an ounce of pleasure to be found, only pain and the feeling of being unnaturally stretched. His hand came up to your face, touching your cheekbone as he whispered to you. “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’ll feel good in a second.”

He was right, of course. It hurriedly faded away and was replaced by the comforting sensation of being full.

He noted your fingers weren’t digging into his skin any longer. “How’s it feel?”

You nuzzled the side of your face against his shoulder, shifting your hips experimentally. You really liked it, but there was one thing missing. “I want to feel your fingers in my pussy, daddy.”

His hand shot down and once more, he roughly fucked two fingers into you.

You turned your face further toward him to stifle the sound you made. He began to curl his touch into that spot and your hips moved without any permission from your brain. You were nearly animalistic, focused solely on coming one more time.

You felt him press against the plug and a mere second later, it was vibrating. Your immediate response was to pull away from the abrupt movement, but it was locked tight in your body. “I think it’s too much, daddy.” Your eyes were crossing, you were losing your sense of direction and reality. Then, his thumb pressed firmly against your clit in these skilled, tiny circles and you knew you were so fucked.

“It’s not,” he insisted. “You can take it. My good girl can take it.”

He found you absolutely stunning. Your skin was flushed, your swollen lips parted as these shameless, wild, musical sounds filled the car. He’d never met someone like you, with a body that longed to be owned and fucked and ruined. It was his favorite thing about you, along with your unrelenting desire for him and your natural obedience and submission.

Your next orgasm was nothing short of harsh. All these sensations threw you off a cliff and into the ocean that was Andy. You completely bent to his will, anything he wanted was a wave that you were powerless to. You didn’t tell him to stop when your hips were jerking every direction due to overstimulation, you didn’t tell him to remove the plug or his fingers even though you were getting dizzy. You no longer felt that it was your place to tell him what to do. You’d handed your body over to him with the unspoken fact that you didn’t mind being possessed. You were undeniably, wholeheartedly his.

requests to be tagged:@onetwo3000​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @donutloverxo​

#andy barber x reader #and the curse continues. i said i was going to post and then i fell asleep lol. #but here we are #my writing

[trashforhockeyguys]

Don’t Hold Me -6- Carter Hart

A/N: Hey guys, I’m still alive lol. AND DHM IS FINALLY BACK!!! Buckle up my loves, things are finally starting to happen. I’m super excited for where this story is going, and I can’t wait for yall to see it all unfold! 

As always, all previous parts are linked in my master list!

"Y/N, can I move yet?” Nolan asked you. 

“Hang on,” You started to chew on your lip as you continued to draw, “Move your head a little to the right? Yeah! Like that, the shadows are good like that.”

“Sorry Patty, I offered to be a nude model or whatever.”

“Travis shut up. No one wants to see that.”

Travis laughed from the kitchen. For one of your classes, you had to draw a portrait of someone, unfortunately for Nolan, he’d volunteered to sit for one. Although, you knew he didn’t exactly think that this was going to take this long. He thought it would take a few minutes at most, not over an hour.

“Nolan stop laughing! I’m almost done.”

You didn’t even notice that someone else had walked in until a cup of coffee from your favorite place down the road was put in front of you. You didn’t look over your shoulder, you already knew who it was, but you couldn’t help the simple smile that crept across your face. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but it was there. 

“Thank you.”

“Woah, she actually said two words to him,” Nolan said in sheer surprise. 

“And they were nice!” Travis added. 

“Shut up. Nolan I swear to god if you move one more time I will beat you with a stick.”

“That looks really good,” Carter said from behind you, ignoring what his teammates were saying. 

You hummed and began to drag your pencil across the page again. You tried not to think about the fact that he was still standing behind you, close enough that you could feel his presence. A small part of your brain started to wonder what it would be like if he just wrapped his arms around you. You almost wanted it. 

You tried to snap yourself out of it. But the longer he was there, the more you wanted to just be closer to him. You had no idea what was going on. This wasn’t like you. You didn’t do things like this. You didn’t need anyone else. 

“For your class?” Carter asked. 

“Yeah. Nolan was a better choice than Travis. At least he can sit still for more than five minutes, and be quiet.”

“Rude,” Travis mumbled.

Your body seemed to almost tingle from how close Carter was to you. You weren’t sure what was happening. You didn't do things like this. You could control everything. But this, this didn’t feel like something you could control. Your body seemed to be taking over from your head.  You didn’t know how to handle this anymore. Everything seemed to be cloudy and unclear now. 

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, okay, done.”

“Yeah? I can eat now?” Nolan asked. 

You weren’t done. You were far from done, but you needed to put space between you and Carter before you did something potentially stupid. All you could think of was getting his arms around you. You wanted to be close to him in a way that you knew was an awful idea. 

“Yeah, go do whatever Nols, I can do the finishing touches without you modeling for me,” You laughed, trying to sound normal again. 

He nodded and moved on. You wanted to go hide now. You wanted to get away from Carter. The buzzing tingly feeling was spreading throughout my whole body. You had no idea what was really going on. All you knew was that you were starting to feel things for Carter that you shouldn’t feel. 

Everything seemed to be blurred now. There were lines you weren’t meant to cross, you knew that, but where were they? What fell into the category of things not to do? Because strangely enough, all you wanted to do now was let yourself sink into Carter’s arms, and just stay there for the rest of the day, and that’s something you absolutely couldn’t do.  

You didn’t want to leave the boys behind, but you also knew that you needed to get some air before your body took over and made you do something you knew would lead to some serious trouble.

“I’m going to go get some food, does anyone want anything?”

“Just sit your little ass down, I’ll make lunch,” Travis told me, pointing to the couch. 

You huffed and plopped back down onto the couch.  Carter was on the other end. Too close for comfort, or maybe not close enough for your body to be comfortable. You couldn’t understand what was going on, how your body was reacting to this. You weren’t meant to like Carter Hart. You’d sworn off hockey players after the last time, that didn’t mean you could just drop everything for Carter. You wouldn’t drop everything for him. You’d figure out how to get yourself to stop feeling whatever you were feeling for him. You weren’t going to do this again. 

“When do you leave for that road trip?”

“Day after tomorrow,” Nolan replied, “We’ll try not to let you get beat to hell, Carter.”

You tried to laugh with them. But the idea of any of them potentially getting hurt made your stomach twist. You hated when they went on road trips because it meant that something might happen and you wouldn’t be there. You weren’t their protector, you knew that. But them being gone also meant they wouldn’t be here for you, should you need them.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Travis said, “We’ll be back before you know it.”

You forced a smile, “Maybe that’s what I’m worried about..”

“Liar,” Travis smiled sadly at you and pulled you in for a hug.

What you didn’t notice was how Carter was looking at you. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should heed TK’s warning and stay away from you, all for your sake. But you had a way of drawing him in, and making him want to know more about you. He wanted to be a part of the close inner circle you’d built with TK and Patty. He couldn’t explain it, he had girls throwing themselves at him all of the time, but for some reason he wanted you. 

The shy girl who hid under baggy sweatshirts and didn’t seem to notice how amazing you could truly be. Everytime he was near you he thought about the night he had to bring you back to his apartment after that stupid party. 

You’d started screaming and crying in your sleep. He’d never tell you that, but he didn’t sleep on the floor of his bedroom because you were getting sick all night. It was because something was haunting you, causing you to wake up screaming. It’d scared the shit out of him. 

He’d automatically called TK and begged him to tell him what to do, or tell him what happened. But TK was quick to tell him that it was your story to share, and if you ever wanted Carter to know, you’d tell him. But that didn’t stop Carter from constantly worrying about the girl in front of him.

“You said you were going to make food,” You mumbled, poking Travis’s stomach. 

“So needy.”

“You’re the one who decided to call me when I moved here,” You pointed out, “Brought this on yourself.”

“Fine,” Travis sighed dramatically, “What do you guys want?”

“Pasta!” You were quick to say, “A big heaping plate of that buttered garlic pasta you make.”

Travis smacked Nolan on his way over to the kitchen, telling him that he needed help. That left you and Carter all alone. You felt uncomfortable, because you didn’t know what to do. You weren’t sure how you were meant to even talk to him. 

Everything just seemed too strange to you now.

“So, how’re classes going?” Carter asked you. 

You shrugged and brought your knees up to your chest, “They’re alright. I’ll be happy when the break rolls around.”

He laughed, “I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to the All Star break.”

You nodded. Travis and Nolan talked about how wonderful breaks were all the time. Their schedule was more than grueling, so you knew time off was more than precious for them. If they didn’t go off somewhere tropical to just relax, it was rare that they’d even leave their rooms. 

Even in lower level juniors, your brother always treasured whatever time off he could get. Some of the things all of you would do during breaks were honestly astounding, and probably borderline illegal, but that was years ago.

“I’m sure.”

“You don’t really like hockey, do you?” He suddenly asked you. 

“What? No! I love it.”

“Really? Sorry, you just don’t seem like it.”

You swallowed and tried to plan your reply, “No, I love it. I’ve grown up on it. It’s just my relationship with hockey is…..complicated.”

You felt like you might throw up. Having to explain it felt different. You could watch games just fine now, not that you always liked to watch in person, but you could watch them. You could talk about them, and give Travis shit for hours about things he’d done. But having to explain your reasonings for being why you were the way that you were...it seemed impossible. 

He already saw you differently, you could tell by the way he looked at you. You were sure that he saw you as someone wounded and broken. You didn’t want him to have another reason to see you differently. Carter was one of the few people that didn’t know, and he didn’t need to know. You could keep him in the dark, you would keep him in the dark. 

“I love hockey,” You said again, “I wouldn’t know Travis without it. I love hockey.”

“Okay,” His voice was calm, like he was trying to calm you, “Okay. I’m sorry I asked.”

You tried to blink away the burning feeling in your eyes. You weren’t going to cry. You weren’t going to show how much pain that simple question brought on. Your stomach churned and you couldn’t do a thing to stop it. 

“I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be back in a minute.”

However, rather than going to the hall bathroom, like you normally would. You quickly made your way back into Travis’s bathroom, far enough away from the living room that you wouldn’t be heard. Especially over the sound of Travis and Nolan in the kitchen, and the music they’d put on. 

Without having a chance to try to stop it, you hunched over the toilet and threw up. You were shaking and crying. A simple question, one that no one else would’ve thought twice about. Any normal person would have a smile yes or no answer. You couldn’t answer simply though. Not without opening a door to something you liked to keep locked away.

You loved hockey….you just didn’t love what hockey had done to you.

#carter hart imagine #carter hart imagines #carter hart fanfic #carter hart fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #hockey fan fiction #hockey fanfiction #flyers imagines #flyers fanfic #flyers fanfiction #flyers imagine #nicolewritesthings

[achliegh]

Happy

Alright my chickpeas, my little garbanzo beans (Wtf am I even saying) I am here to bring you the “Happy we-did-it Ending”. This one was really difficult for me to write because when it comes to good endings my mind just calls them fake. Which… I mean this is fiction so why can’t it be happy. Sorry if this sucks I tried my best. Please Read at your own risk! This is a triggering fic.

Love, Your Trash Monster

CW/TW: Past Abusive relationship, Anxiety, Depression, Panic Attack, past age difference relationship (Illegal)

Part1 Part2 Part3

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Besides Luka, I made him up, don’t care for him tho

Leo's leg was bouncing uncontrollably, he and Sirius waited for Coach outside his office, He was grateful for Sirius like he felt indebted to him even though they only talked for maybe a half hour. He runs his hands through his hair for what feels like the millionth time.

“What if he doesn’t believe me?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud but when his captain turned and gave him a soft look, he realized he did. He looked down at his hands in his lap and picked at a bandaid. It was one of the Hello Kitty ones Logan bought on accident. “I mean I have no proof of any of this happening, What if Coach thinks I just dislike Luka for no reason and am trying to ruin his life or something like that… It wouldn’t be the first time an adult hasn’t believed me. I mean, there's that double standard that “Men don’t get sexually abused and if they do they don’t cry about it” it's why I never even told Finn and Lo until a few weeks ago. I didn’t want them to think less of me.” He smiles a little at the bandaid he was messing with and thinks about how lucky he is that his boys still love him. “I’m so lucky”

“I get it.” Sirius looked up just in time to see Arthur walking towards them. He smiles a little and stands with Leo next to him.

They follow Arthur into his office and sit down.

“So, is this about all the concerned people who have been telling me something is wrong with Leo?” His brushy red eyebrow lifts and he crosses his arms leaning back in his chair. “I was also told by a little Russian bird that there was an argument in the locker room between you and Luka. Leo whatever is going on it has a lot of people worried.” He leaned forward and set his hands on the arms of his big office chair. “Leo, you know I treat everyone of my players like my sons.”

Leo takes a shaky breath and clutches his hands together tightly in his lap. Gulping down the fearful frog in his throat he meets Coaches eyes. “ What I'm going to tell you is something I’ve only told to a few people. I don’t have any proof anymore, but I need you to believe me Coach.” He feels Sirius put a hand on his arm as a comforting I’m here motion. He told Arthur and Sirius everything, not leaving out any detail that he was comfortable enough to share. It was everything from the good, loving parts of the relationship that made him sick to his stomach now. To the horribly, hellish parts of the relationship that made him choke on his own tears. Leo didn’t think much of it back then (he was a little preoccupied trying not to break) but he remembered that most of Luka and his friend would film things with Leo because they thought it was funny to see him suffer or to save for later to use as blackmail on anyone in the videos.

“Wait, you said he filmed these things?” Arthur, who had turned white as a ghost and had a furious glint in his eye, started drumming his fingers. “Do you think he would have kept these videos throughout the two years you’ve been apart.?

“I know for a fact he's kept them” They both look at him with wide eyes and a silent invitation to explain. “He would ask me if I wanted to see them… or remake them” Talking about all this as making him feel like he was gonna puke. He had a foul taste in my mouth. Arthur put his head in his hands, he's devastated that he let such a fucking asshole interact with his team. That he let his youngest player suffer like that.

Sirius had stood abruptly from his chair and was pacing behind Leo’s chair with his hand interlocked on the back of his neck. He exhales deeply, seething with anger. How could he let this go on so long, he had picked up on Leos habits because Remus had pointed out how similar the two of them were at times. He feels like he failed as a Captain for not doing something sooner.

“Is there anything we can do, Coach? I mean, can we at least fire him?” He stopped pacing and ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath as he looked at the young kid next to him. How was he so good at hiding his pain? People would say that Sirius was good at that too but everyone on the team has seen him crack and spiral. Leo was always this calm, collected, cool support. He acted so mature for being so young and it was all clicking in his head. Everything about this 19 year old goalie was formed from the love and support of his family, but also the hate and abuse from a lover. He has experienced more than most people on the same team as him that are older than him.

“We can fire him, and if we do call the police, they can seize his electronics. If he really does still have those videos they could lock him up for CP because you were underage at the time. Nothing is guaranteed though.” He's deep in though, sometime during the processing of everything Leo had told them he had grabbed his laptop and was furiously typing an email to the Lead of the Organization. He hit send and looked up to the two hockey players. “I’m going to talk to Mr. Godic and Luka together. I already had a meeting with Mr. Godric today about next year's fundraisers but this is a more important topic.” he stands up and looks at Leo “Thank you for telling me Nut. That was very brave of you” He smiles weakly and Ruffles Leo’s hair. “If you ever need anything just let me know, okay?” He nods towards Sirius and walks out the door to his meeting.

“We should get you home, your boys are waiting.” He smiles softly as Leo stands and is taken by surprise when Leo pulls him into a tight hug mumbling “thank you” into his shoulder.

Leo was so happy, he felt lighter than he has in the last two years. He gets squeezed by the man he wrapped himself around and laughs wetly. When they pull away they both wipe their eyes and smile at each other. This was a new chapter to both their lives.

Sirius dropped Leo off at home after a stop at a drive through for an ice cream cone (that he may or may not have dropped on Sirius’ floor and got an annoyed glare) he walked in the front door and was talked into a pile of limbs and smothering kisses. He laughed freely and kissed both his boys sweetly and conveyed so much love.

As the Cubs made dinner together and sang to a random playlist. Logan burned half the food and Finn dropped a third of it. Good thing Leo tripled the recipe so they had enough to eat for the night. Putting on a mind numbing cooking show they just waxed poetically about how much they love each other. Around 7:30 pm Leo's phone started vibrating and a picture of Arthur sleeping on the bus with Talker doing a thumbs up flashes on his screen.

“What happened?” He is very anxious about everything that could go wrong, all of that melted away when Arthur shared the news.

“He's been taken down to the station and his phone has been seized. He was angry when confronted and actually tried to take a swing at me before security was called. If this ends up going to court would you be able to, you know, stand trial. I mean telling your coach is one thing but a room of strangers is different. Especially because the media will be all over this case.”

Leo had to think about this, if he didn’t go and testify this case would only air on the local news. Then again, he could change people's lives. He could be a role model for people who are too afraid to tell about their experiences. That's worth more than anything. He may be shamed online but it doesn’t matter. He Needed to do this.

“Yeah, this is something I need to do.”

#leo knut #lumosinlove #logan tremblay #sirius black #finn o'hara #sweater weather #coast to coast

[atsukashii]

❝crush culture❞ // e. kirishima

SYNOPSIS: ➛ Confessing to someone you’ve liked for a long time is scary stuff, even when the person you’re confessing to has a smile like the sun and radiates good energy.

» CHARACTER PAIRING: eijiro kirishima x reader

» WORD COUNT: 3.3K

» GENRE: normal?? U.A era, oneshot

» WARNINGS: fluff to the max, Kirishima fluff right here.

« masterlist || ao3 »

To say you had a crush on your best friend Eijiro Kirishima would be the understatement of the century. Everyone knew it about it; Bakugou made it his mission to give you non-stop crap about it, only making it worse when Kirishima was so oblivious to everything you did! You’d even asked him on a date for crying out loud! Though you stuttered and stumbled a bit getting there, he thought it was the both of you just going out as friends. What did a girl have to do to get his attention? Everything apparently...

Groaning, you walk into the common room and flop face first onto the couch, earning a laugh from your friends sprawled out across the room.

“Progress?” Mina’s voice breaks the giggles and you turn your head slightly to the right, looking at her amused smile.

“I’m going to go crazy.” your complaint only makes the girls laugh more. Trying to get the guy you like to notice your feelings for him shouldn’t be this hard...right?

“Maybe you can write him an anonymous letter or something,” Ochako suggests, tapping a finger on her chin in thought.

“But if it’s anonymous it would defeat the purpose of the confession,” 

“Then she can just add her name.” Shrugs your friend Kyoka, like that whole idea was the easiest thing.  

“Ohhh maybe buy him some candy or something and write a cute little note and sign your name at the bottom. That would be sooooo cute!” Toru squeals and you can’t help but sigh.

“For Kirishima, protein bars would probably be better.” adds Tsu, resulting in the group sounding in agreement. Yeah, they weren’t wrong there, but you knew the boy had a secret stash of chocolate next to his bed when he got midnight snack cravings. It was when you’d first become close friends, Kirishima had come down stairs and found you snacking on strawberry ice cream from the freezer at a quarter past two in the morning. Turns out, he’d had the same idea. So you spent the next hour sitting on the floor of the communal kitchen, eating ice cream and getting to really know each other. And then as you walked back to your room, your heart almost bursting inside your chest, you realised what you felt for Kiri that night wasn’t just friendship. 

“-maybe we need a different opinion…” Mina says, catching your attention. The pure mischief in her eyes screams trouble and as you hear the door to the dorms open, Mina perks up in a way that makes you want to puke from nerves.

“Bakugou!” Oh please anyone but him!

“What the hell do you want, Racoon Eyes?” His voice booms through the common area. God does this boy not have a quiet setting?

“What would be the best way to get Kirishima’s attention...Asking for a friend of course!” Mina asks, winking a so not subtle wink in your direction, making you blush bright red.

“You still haven’t told him yet idiot?” Bakugou’s attention is now directed to where you are sprawled sadly on the couch. 

“No…” Your pillow-muffled response makes the girls stifle their laughter out of pity, whilst Bakugou just huffs in annoyance - as if your very presence requires too much effort for him to deal with.

“Just man up and tell him, moron,” he snaps like it’s the simplest thing ever and not utterly terrifying.

“I’m going to try option two,” He rolls his eyes and leans over the back of the couch, glaring at you.

“You’re such a coward. He’s not going to hurt your precious little feelings y/n, just do it already. I’m sick of hearing about this shit.”

“Hearing about what?” Your heart gets caught in your throat as the spiky haired redhead in question walks into the room, a towel around his shoulders and looking like he walked out of a damn dream. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but turn all shades of pink and gulp for air like a fish. Since when had you gone from being able to talk to your best friend about literally anything to this stuttering and jumbled up mess? You weren’t all that sure, but you were aware that you’re currently making a fool of yourself. You hadn’t realised that Bakugou had come back from the gym as well, and it made so much sense that Kirishima was with him, but god! Who the hell gave him permission to look that good? It should be illegal.  Kirishima’s red eyes meet yours from across the room, and he shoots you that signature smile that was so warm and you swore flowers actually sprouted wherever it was directed. Looking at him sometimes was like staring into the sun. 

“We’re just going around saying cute things that would get our attention,” Mina swoops in to the rescue making you instinctively rip your eyes from the red head and focus them on her.  What are you doing? You mouth tensely, your back to your crush so that he can’t see your crimson face. Mina only winks at you in response, so you look to your other friend Ochako, who is currently no better. Supplying you with a cheeky grin and wagging her eyebrows suggestively, you can’t help but want to groan in annoyance at their antics. 

“Well, I mean it is Valentines day coming up, so that makes sense.” All the girls turn to him grinning, and you instinctively fear what someone says next.

“What would someone have to do to get your attention Kiri?” Mina asks him teasingly, but also completely seriously. Oh my god… You couldn’t believe that she was actually asking him, but at the same time you are curious. You have done basically anything but yell at him in the face that you liked him and wanted to date him, so you were listening a little too closely to his response. Pink dusting his cheeks, Kirishima looks over the group and scratches the back of his head with a nervous arm.

“Well I guess it would have to depend on the person.”

“LAME! Come on Kiri, give us something more than that!” Mina whines, earning a chorus of agreements from the crowd of girls around you. It was so quick that you barely noticed it, but Kirisima glances at you before shifting on his feet nervously… He only looked at me because I'm his friend, and he finds these questions awkward. Yeah, that’s why.

“Well, I guess they’d probably just have to tell me. That's super manly.” You try not to sink in your chair as Bakugou gives you a knowing look. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know asshole, you try to scream at him through your eyes. “Anyways, i'm going to go wash up.” Kirishima leaves the room, shooting you one last smile and you instinctively let out a breath as if you'd been holding it since he came into the room. Your lungs sure felt like they had.

“Told you so, dumbass.” Bakugou calls as he walks out the room, and the temptation to throw one of the cushions at him is almost too much, but you don’t have the energy to focus on him right at that moment. Instead, you take a deep breath and turn to Mina with determination in your eyes.

“I’m going to tell him.” The noise they all release from their throats somehow didn’t shatter the glass, however it does earn an appearance from a very concerned Iida who barges into the common room in alarm. Never a boring day I guess, you think as you glance at the empty spot where Kirishima had just stood. Tomorrow, you let out a shaking breath. Tomorrow. 

❀ ❀ ❀

Today is the day. The sun is bright and high in the sky, it isn’t that cold for a February afternoon, and everything so far is going your way. It had to be today. 

You linger around the entrance to your classroom, waiting for Kirishima to make his usual appearance. You hear him laughing along with Kaminari before you can even see him. You feel his throaty, sunshine filled laugh echo through your bones and stir up the butterflies that had just begun to rest in your stomach. And when he rounds the corner and see’s you waiting there, he sends you the sweetest smile that makes your thundering heart drop through the floor. 

“Hey, y/n! Thanks for waiting.” he says happily. Kaminari’s eyes glance between the two of you quickly, before grinning far too ecstatically for your liking.

“It’s all good.”

“Where are you two off to?” Kaminari but’s in with a knowing smile. Kirishima looks at him as if only then suddenly remembering that he was there as well. 

“It's Friday afternoon and we’ve got an exam on Monday, dude. It’s crunch time.” Kirishima nods at you, bumping his fists together as if he’s readying for battle. You and Kirishima had begun to study together towards the end of your first year of school. He claimed that you were a better tutor than Bakugou, which you constantly brought up to the fiery blonde whenever he began to annoy you. You always ended up running away like your life depended on it as soon as the words left your mouth, but his pissed off look made the risk of imminent death so worth it. 

“Can I join you guys today?” You look over at your eccentric friend and can’t tell if he is being serious and wants to study, or if he just knows how important today is - because Mina can’t keep her mouth shut - and wants front seats to the show.

“Uh, I mean-” you are immediately cut off by a hand yanking Kaminari back by his collar and revealing a stoic faced Bakugou.

“Leave them alone sparky. You need to study and I’m only offering my services today, so take it or you’re on your own.” He doesn’t even give Kaminari a chance to breathe before begrudgingly pulling him down the hall away from you. 

“Well looks like it's just us y/n.” Kirishima says, taking a step down the hall. You can’t hide your smile, quickly moving to catch up to him. 

“I’m glad. You’re enough to handle, I'm not sure how I’d go adding Kaminari to the mix.” You tease your best friend. With a fake and very over-exaggerated gasp, Kirishima places a hand on his heart and stares at you in shock.

“That really hurt, y/n.” He cries out, stopping in his steps as you keep walking ahead. You try to hold in your laugh at his antics but fail miserably, letting out a loud laugh as you turn back to him.

“Your heart isn’t on your right side, Kiri,” You correct him, walking backwards for a few steps and only turning around when you see him run to catch up to you.

“I knew that. Just making sure you did.” He explains, falling into line next to you once again, making you look up at him and raise an eyebrow.

“Sure…” The two of you together walk out of the building in silence, just appreciating the peace that comes with being around each other. You and Kirishima didn’t have to even talk when you were together, just being in each other's presence is enough.

You feel your hands begin to sweat as you step outside. You were really going to do this, you were going to tell him… But what if he doesn’t feel the same? Risking a glance at him, your heart flutters and you know you have to do it. If you have to continue on like this for another day you are going to lose it. You love Kirishima’s friendship, but god you want something more. You want him to hold your hand on your daily trips to and from the dorms, you want to go and eat katsudon with him and not as friends. You want to be able to kiss him for no other reason than that you could. You are willing to risk one of the closest friendships you've ever had for it. 

“-day.” You blink and snap your head in Kirishima’s direction. He was talking and you didn’t catch a single word he said. A knowing smile cracks across Kirishima’s face as he takes in your startled expression.

“Was I that boring?” He jokes, pink beginning to dust his cheeks. Your heart lurches at the thought and you stop dead in your tracks.

“No! Not at all!” The words come out far too loudly which causes you to blush bright red and for Kirishima to frown at you. Oh god, what if he knew? You quickly try to change the topic whilst brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Sorry, i’m just in my own world. You’re definitely not boring, Kiri.” You promise. 

“Y/n… Are you alright?” Letting out a groan, you wipe a hand down your face and sigh. Well this is it, I guess.

“Actually Kiri, there's something I need to tell you,” Suddenly you’re glad that you’re not walking, because the look on his face that you see by peeking through your fingers would have made you trip over absolutely nothing.

“What is it?” God bless him, he’s concerned. And he had every right to be, because it feels like you are about to pass out. Nervously, you begin to fidget with your hands before grasping them tightly in front of you. 

“There’s this guy,” It’s all you had to say before Kirishima’s smile slipped straight off his face. Ouch. He must see something in your face because not even a second later, his usual happy-go-lucky smile reappears. You however, can read Kirishima like a book, and when his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, you know he wasn’t feeling it. 

“So, there's a guy you like, huh?” He utters, adjusting the shoulder strap of his bag.

“Yeah, he’s super kind, brave and handsome too.” You reply, a smile climbing onto your face.

“Sounds like a real catch, y/n.” Is all he says, starting to walk away - obviously expecting you to walk with him. “You deserve it.” How cute, you thought. 

“Thanks, but really I’m the lucky one. We’ve been friends for so long too, and he treats me so well.” You boast, walking behind him, hoping for him to catch on. Kirishima stops so suddenly that you run into his back, what is he...

“I don’t…” He starts slowly, his back still turned to you. He moves as if he's about to turn around and face you, but lets out a dejected sigh instead. 

“Kiri…” he turns around at your voice, no smile or happiness found on his features. Just a look of pure devastation and concern.

“He’s a good guy?” You can’t help but want to smile at his question.

“Oh, the best.” Pursing his lips, Kirishima nods his head a few times before letting out a strangled groan that catches you off guard. 

“Is it Bakugou?” You choke on oxygen and splutter as he looks you in the eye, as if trying to tell if you are lying. 

“No. Never. Nope. Not happening,” you shudder at the image of that possibility. Like sure, you’re not blind and Bakugou is attractive, but personally, that loses its appeal as soon as he opens his mouth.

“Kaminari?” He counters, taking a step forward with his face fixed into a scowl that is so unlike him and so rare that it throws you for a loop.

“No, Kiri-”

“Sero? Midoriya? Iida? No… wait Ojiro? Shoji?” The names leave his mouth a mile a minute as you gape at him. He is now in his own little world of chaos that you’ve created, a hand over his mouth as he mumbles. “It’s Todoroki isn’t it?” Kirishima asks, whipping his head to you. Annoyance bleeds through his eyes as he says it. “It’s always Todoroki…” 

You suddenly can’t hold it in - the frustration of not being able to get a single word in, the nerves pounding through your bloodstream, and maybe just a little bit of courage has you blurting it out.

“Its you!” Crimson eyes meet your own and you suck in a nervous breath as he stills completely. “It’s you…I want to…” Your voice drifts off as a smile breaks out across his face slowly. 

“It’s me?” You don’t even have time to finish nodding before he practically leaps at you, picking you up around your middle and laughing so loudly that people walking past are staring. You can feel your heart pounding inside your head as you stare down at Kirishima... Wait, does that mean…

“Thank god,” he says as he begins to put you down, but doesn't move to let you go. “I swear if you had said someone else, I probably would have died.” You want to roll your eyes at his dramatics, but your brain can’t seem to catch up. He likes you! He likes you too! That’s what that means, idiot!

“Kiri…” you only manage to get your voice out as a whisper. 

“I really like you y/n, like stupidly so.” Now it's your turn to grin like an absolute maniac at him. Holy crap, you did not expect this. Best case scenario, of course, was this outcome, but it wasn’t your expectation. Ohmygod he likes me.

“Will you...quit smiling at me, I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that!” Kirishima complains, but there’s no annoyance in it as he’s grinning back at you.

“Look like what?” You argue. Reaching up to touch your cheeks which are now starting to hurt, Kirishima snatches your hand in his before you have the chance. 

“So pretty. Seriously, y/n, give me a chance to breathe.” He says squinting at you playfully. “It’s like looking at the damn sun.” You’re laughing, a proper heart-filled laugh that ends with a snort loud enough for you to slap your hand over your mouth. Kirishima stares at you dazed for a moment as his free hand wraps around your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks out of the blue, his cheeks tainted the same colour as his hair and you’re sure you look the same. Your brain has officially stopped working. 

“You don’t have to ask me Kiri,” you point out.

“Consent is manly.” He grins before finally closing the distance between you. It both seems to last forever, but also for not even a second. Reaching up on your toes, you wrap your arms around Kirishima’s neck and pull yourself impossibly closer to him. When your lungs begin screaming at you and you realise you’re not breathing, you pull back from the blushing boy. You can’t stop your smile this time, even if you tried. This was the best idea you’d ever had.  “Want to go out with me for dinner tomorrow night?” He asks, pulling back just enough to look down in your eyes as his breath fans your face. Not in a million years had you thought that you would actually be standing here with Kirishima like this. But whatever luck you somehow gained overnight, you were so grateful for it. Just as you are about to respond with a massive yes, the impending doom of your incoming English exam on Monday emerges back into your train of thought.

“How about we do a study date for now? I wasn’t joking about the tutoring, you know.” You point out, making Kirishima fake a pout in annoyance.

“Fine,” he gently reaches down and envelops your small hand, linking your fingers between his. “I’ll just have to settle with that for now. But once we’re done, I’m taking you for katsudon because I know it’s your favourite.” Without a second of hesitation you reach up and kiss Kirishima lightly on the cheek, making that bright blush come back all over again.

“I can’t wait.”

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

​

#Kirishima eijiro #eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #flower prompt #request #lolswrites

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Definitely do *not* write a drabble about Chris being triggered into thinking Jake is sending him back, with Jake having to comfort him. Do not do it, Ash. I demand it.

While I couldn't quite bring myself to hit the request exactly, I did think of something that might actually give Chris a very similar reaction... sorry I sat on this so long, I couldn’t make the words do for a while, but here they FINALLY are

CW: Referenced beating/injuries, emeto mentions, bruising, pressing on a bruised rib, trauma response, some discussion of PTSD/conditioned responses, discussion of noncon touching, noncon in memories + discussion (warning: Jake speaks very plainly about what it was, so cw for use of the word r*pe, I know that can be difficult), referenced violent reaction to stimming

TIMELINE: Immediately post-Safehouse Raid/Interrogation series

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump

Dr. Masood’s touch is gentle, and light, and Jake can see why the rescues like him so much. The safehouse’s doctor - a man who could lose his license to practice if anyone finds out that he provides healthcare to illegal runaway pets on nights and weekends - hums to himself, cheerfully, as his thumbs and fingers graze along the edge of Jake’s black eye, take in the bruising on his face, the swollen lower lip. 

His touch is so deft around the dark purple-black bruise on Jake’s head that he barely winces at the pressure, quick, barely-there and then gone, as Dr. Masood checks the spot where that asshole Everly bashed Jake’s head into the table again and again.

“My apologies,” Dr. Masood says gently, his accent warming his voice, making every word slightly musical. “You have quite a few bruises, some surface lacerations, but I’m not seeing anything that won’t heal with a little rest and regular at-home care. How are you sleeping?”

Jake swallows, feeling himself tense a little. He hasn’t slept, not really, in the three days since he’d come back from the police station. That first day after his return he had passed out, had laid on the bed with Chris beside him, safe in his arms, and slept like a log for nearly twelve hours, woken to eat, and then gone right back to sleep until the next day all over again. 

Ever since then... he can’t. He can doze, off and on, as long as Chris is inside the house where he can see him or by him. But he can’t-... he can’t stay asleep, he wakes at every noise, heart pounding, ready to hide Chris again, get Antoni and Leila back down to the basement. Has to be ready to open the front door himself this time, not let Nat take hits herself just to buy them time.

The deep bruising on Nat’s face, the cut across her cheekbone, the way that she moves with care and grits her teeth every time she has to stand up, the way she keeps describing herself as doing fine and powering through and making it through the day, her dry Midwestern drawl when she says she’s livin’ the dream, Jake, that’s all... it’s new wounds, layered under his skin instead of over it. It should have been him to answer the door, put up the fight, make himself the more important target.

Next time, Jake has to be the one to open the door to weapons in his face and spitting hate for his decision to protect the people who need protecting, he has to... he has to be ready.

He can’t be ready if he’s sleeping.

“I’m not,” He answers, finally. “Not much.”

Dr. Masood’s lips thin, just slightly, but he nods, looking over Jake’s torso now. Speckled with bruising, and Jake hisses in a harsh breath when Dr. Masood presses on his bruised rib, only to pull back quickly with a low apology. “I could give you something to help you sleep, Jake.”

“I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t take it,” Jake says. He could lie, but what’s the point?

“I see.” The doctor pauses. “Jake-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jake says gruffly. “Every time I sleep, I-”

see myself begging for it to stop saying I’ll do anything give up anyone they want just let me sleep just give me something to eat just one small thing anything I’ll do anything

Jesus, how little it took to get him saying please and thank you - who knew how much it would have taken for him to give away even more?

I wanted to contract you, but I was overruled.

He shudders, then winces as the motion sends pain out in a nauseating wave from his ribcage, lifting a hand to put a bit of pressure there. 

How long was Chris held, before he gave them whatever they wanted, gave them whoever he used to be, just to get a little sleep?

“You are having nightmares,” Dr. Masood finishes for him. They’re sitting in the den, a small room behind the living room, where they have their one-on-ones with the therapist, where they have an occasional group meeting. Jake nods, leaning over despite the new throb of pain, and closes his eyes, rubbing his hand over his mouth, over the stubble he hasn’t shaved. Nearly a week of growth, between interrogation and the first few days back home.

“Bet your ass I am,” Jake muttered. The scratch of the hair on his jaw against his thumb and fingers was another reminder of how fucked up the past week of his life had been. 

“About being arrested?” Dr. Masood handed Jake his shirt - a button-up, Jake was struggling to pull shirts on over his head when it meant lifting his arms and pulling on bruised muscles and aching bones. 

“Not really. That’s I’m not the one who gets hauled off this time.”

“You are seeing Chris in your place.” It’s not a question.

Jake blinks up at the doctor and then just laughs, shaking his head, ignoring the pulse of ache at the motion. It’s not like he doesn’t just hurt all of the time no matter what he does, what’s the point of pretending otherwise? “Yeah. Or... back there in that place.”

Now he’s seen Chris - or who he was before he was Chris or even the rescue wrapped in his blanket in the rain. Now he’s seen the hunched-over shoulders, the attempts to rock and tap and do the things he did to keep himself calm met with implacable, awful violence. 

He understands the way Chris never moved at first, would just stay in one spot for hours in perfect silence, so much better now.

He dreams of Chris there again, the dull terror in wide green eyes. 

Worse, he dreams he’s the one who put him there. Sees himself in the shitty fucking uniforms those assholes wear, shoving Chris ahead of him down the hallway while he begs and pleads for Jake to remember himself, to save him, but Jake can’t save him from them because Jake is them...

Sees himself making the same sick jokes Everly made to him, touching Chris’s face, treating him like an object, like a fucking toy to be used, to be-

Jake’s stomach heaves and he leans over as saliva floods his mouth, breathing carefully, waiting for the nausea, the need to throw up the bit of tea and toast he had for breakfast, to pass. 

Dr. Masood watches him with care in those dark eyes, his hands folded in front of him. “You have undergone a trauma, Jake. It’s common to have nightmares afterward as your mind attempts to process that trauma-”

“I haven’t gone through shit,” Jake spits with sudden anger. “I got roughed up, that’s all. That’s not-... that isn’t shit compared to-”

“How old are you, trainee?” The handler asks the question heavy with loaded double-meanings, obvious enough Jake can read them. Give the right answer or get hurt.

“Eighteen,” Chris whispers, with wide scared eyes. Everyone in the room seems satisfied with the blatant, obvious lie.

“Good. And is that the legal consenting age?”

“… yes.”

“Good boy.” The handler pets heavily through Chris’s hair, and the boy shudders in disgust - Jake has never seen him react to touch like that, not from anyone. Just one more sign of a person that’s been totally erased.

“Pl-please, please don’t, please don’t-don’t, don’t touch me-”

“That’s not an option available to you any longer.”

“-compared to what they’ve all lived through,” Jake finishes, trying to close his eyes against the thoughts but he can see it in his mind, now, the way the person who wasn’t yet Chris had shuddered and tried to turn away from touch only to have it forced on him again and again and again.

He feels the nausea again, and this time it takes everything in him not to throw up all over the floor. They hurt Chris, in that place. The touch he seeks out from Jake comes from being forced to accept touch until he wanted it, until he doesn’t know any other way to be. Doesn’t it?

Doesn’t that make needing to hold Chris in the night to know he’s safe, carrying him around, the hugs he’s offered so freely... doesn’t that make all of that no different than assault?

Jake has always thought he was helping, by giving open and easy affection. But... what if he’s only reinforcing what Chris shouldn’t want? Maybe doesn’t, deep down? Chris is an open book but even open books can have things hidden in the margins.

It’s not like Chris could ever tell him if he didn’t want to be touched, is it? They can’t say no, can’t even begin to process the word without fear of punishment. Jake knows that as well as anyone, it’s why he’s so careful with the rescues, but they need touch so badly. All of them, even Antoni, lean heavily into physical reassurance and affection, seem to recover faster and more easily if they can seek it out when they need it, but... 

Jesus, what if Chris is shuddering and shaking and disgusted and only pretending that it feels nice to be hugged? What if-

What if Jake really isn’t any better than Grant Everly, anyway?

Pull yourself together. This doesn’t make sense. But his brain won’t stop spitting the certainty back at him. The image of that asshole - whoever it was, Chris’s fucking actual handler, that stupid fucking word they use instead of abuser, instead of abductor, instead of son of a bitch who deserves to die-

“Jake, trauma doesn’t work that way,” Dr. Masood says quietly. “There is no trauma Olympics. There is no competition to see whose is worse and caused by what. You were subjected to sleep deprivation, purposeful withholding of food and water, physical assault... Natalie tells me you were forced to watch some of the trauma young Chris was put through as well, and understand, what you are feeling is normal and nothing to be ashamed of-”

“It’s not shit, it’s nothing, I’m supposed to be able to take it, it’s not like I haven’t had the shit kicked out of me before and I was a lot younger then,” Jake snaps, pushing himself to his feet. The woozy burst of pain behind his eyes and in his ribs nearly stops him, but not quite. “This isn’t anything. Fucking black eye and a bruised rib and I turn into a little kid scared of the fucking dark.”

“That’s not what this is,” Dr. Masood says quietly. “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is common even in situations in which outright danger to your physical self is not present. You kept Chris hidden.” He puts his hand on Jake’s shoulder, squeezes lightly, in support. “There is something to have pride in, there. You put your body between Chris and danger, Jake. You are a stalwart certainty in his life, when he very much needs one. I’ve known you since you first came here to work for Natalie, and I am-” Dr. Masood pauses, clears his throat. “I am always amazed by your dedication to doing what is best for them all. And I think Chris would still be... quieter... if it weren’t for you specifically.”

Jake can hear the words but they don’t settle, they don’t mean anything. Just buzzing bees trying to distract him from the realization that he can’t protect Chris, because doing that means protecting Chris from himself.

“I can’t-... I can’t do this.”

“Jake?” Dr. Masood’s voice is quiet. “We can end the appointment now, if you wish, but I hope you will at least take the medication I brought with me to help manage your pain-”

“I can’t do this,” Jake groans, hot angry tears building behind closed eyes. “I can’t be this, I can’t do this, I can’t live like this. I can’t keep being around him if this is what it means, you know? I can’t keep spending time with Chris, or keeping him near me, or-... I can’t touch him. I don’t want to touch him if this is... if this is the result. I don’t want to be anywhere near him, if...”

He trails off, trying to imagine how to say if being near him means i’m only hurting him, slowing his recovery, making him dependent on me where he used to be dependent on that motherfucking pervert son of a bitch who raped him, who paid for him to be trained to be raped and pretend it was something else, if this isn’t helping him I’d rather die than make someone like him hurt any worse...

He can’t figure out how to phrase it, how to even begin. It feels good just to say it, just to let it out, and maybe... maybe it isn’t what he thinks it is, really. Maybe he’s not so bad, though, because the rescues do need solid, positive touch, they do, they just-

But how can you fucking tell? How can he tell if what he provides Chris is helping or hurting him?

“Jake, you need to speak with Dr. Berger. These thoughts suggest to me that your trauma is internalizing because you lack an external outlet. You are not-”

“I don’t want to fucking be around him if this is what happens!”

Jake means if I only hurt him worse, but the sound of sudden footsteps, nearly silent, breaks in before he can clarify, before he even realizes he should have.

Jake’s heart drops to his knees. He knows those footsteps, he knows them deep within himself with perfect muscle-memory born of every night Chris has moved nearly-silent to his bedside and whispered, Jake, Jake, can I-I, can, can I sleep with you?

All at once, Jake knows that what he said out loud and what he thought were two different things, and Chris only heard the one.

“Oh, fuck,” He says out loud.

No, no, no no no-

It hurts but Jake puts the pain aside - he’s done it before, after all, washing dishes after dinner with bruises all over his chest and back where they hide easily under his school clothes and his father’s glare burning holes in his back while his mother puts ice on her own bruises upstairs - and moves, with uncommon speed for a man of his size and his injuries.

It doesn’t matter.

Chris is already gone, the back door in the kitchen smacking shut even as Jake moves through the living room. Antoni, in the middle of chopping vegetables for dinner, has frozen and looked up, his eyes meeting Jake’s. Antoni doesn’t ask - only drops the knife and moves for the door, the two of them calling Chris’s name nearly simultaneously. 

He’s not in the backyard, not in the shed or the little planter-garden, not shimmying up a tree, not sitting on the back fence, not here.

There’s no redhead anywhere to be seen. Even when they move to the front yard and look back and forth, he’s nowhere to be seen.

“What happened?” Antoni asks, softly, as the two of them stare at the space where Chris should be, and isn’t.

“I fucked up,” Jake says, heavily.

What else is fucking new?

“... what do we do?” Antoni rakes a hand back through thick dark hair. “Where did he go?”

Jake closes his eyes, tries to think over the pounding guilt and fury, aimed now entirely at himself.

“I don’t know.”

#whump #whumped caretaker #angry caretaker #caretaker whumpee #bruising tw #bruised rib #jake the shelter guy #survivor guilt #ptsd tw #referenced noncon #use of the word rape #referenced torture #caretaking #heavy angst #runaway whumpee #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #emeto mention #pain #conditioning #trauma response #intrusive thoughts tw #trauma induced rage #self-loathing tw

[stormkrigeren]

Whumptober Day 4!

Link to the Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34210837/chapters/85303615

Title: Hostage - Clark

Prompt: No. 4 ‘Trust Fall’ - “Do you trust me?”, taken hostage, pushed

Trigger Warnings: threats

Word Count: 1763

Dinner-dates with Lois were always nice - good food, stimulating conversation, and excellent company were all a man could ask for, and she certainly made it interesting. Tonight they had picked out a local Italian restaurant in the university district and talked about… well, everything. How his mom was doing, what books the other was currently reading, the subway construction, Clark’s latest article, Lois’ most recent investigation - drug smugglers bringing in goods from Gotham, of all things - and whether lasagna was better with red sauce or alfredo. The discussion moved towards housing prices after Black Zero over a shared dessert of cannolis, and developed into a playful debate over whether the high taxi fare was worth it considering that it was twice as fast as the subway when they finally walked out of the restaurant.

Lois’ apartment wasn’t too far away and the weather was good, so they opted to walk hand-in-hand, simply enjoying each other’s company while they explained whatever articles they were currently working on. Clark was just beginning a short series assigned to him by Perry on recent changes made to libraries in the district and what sort of effects the changes might have on schools and poorer neighborhoods - a bit fluffy, not necessarily investigative but enough to get his wheels turning as he fit all the pieces together. Some of the Metropolis city council members were recommending closing the libraries a bit earlier in the afternoon, which Clark - bookish nerd that he was - was strongly against, and he proceeded to rattle off a list of statistics and arguments that pointed out the issue with shortening library hours while Lois bounced the ideas right back at him with a bit of journalistic review. She herself was currently in the thick of a story revolving around a smuggling ring that was gradually importing narcotics and other illegal items into Metropolis - from what she could tell, the drugs were coming from all over but a majority were ferried over from Gotham. Lois explained in a low voice as they walked that a tentative lead had pointed her towards Mal Sharpe, the owner of a few small businesses in the downtown of both cities, who seemed to have his hands in many pies… including drug trafficking. There was a low-priority warrant out for Mal’s arrest, but that warrant would soon be at the top of everyone’s list if Lois had anything to say about it.

Clark grinned at that, knowing full well that with his girlfriend on the case, it was sure to be resolved within the week. Gently steering the topic towards where they should go for dinner next week, he looped an arm around her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her cheek just as Lois turned to do the same. But instead of her arms slipping beneath his open coat to pull him close, Clark instead felt a sharp tug on his shirt collar, abruptly ending the kiss as it was followed by a kick to the back of his knees.

He hardly felt the blow, but it still caught him by surprise and Clark inwardly cursed when he realized that he had been so focused on Lois, he hadn’t noticed the two men sneaking up behind them - and when one of them pulled out a gun to press it against his head, Clark reconsidered fighting back and silently complied when he was once again shoved to his knees.

Lois’ eyes widened at the sight of the two criminals shoving her boyfriend to the ground, then narrowed dangerously when she spotted the gun in one’s hand and the knife in the other’s.

“What do you want?” she asked slowly, gaze flitting between the knife now pointed at her - a sure threat of what would happen if she screamed for help - and Clark calmly putting his hands on his head in surrender as they waited to be told to hand over their wallets. They both knew that a gun against Clark’s head wouldn’t do him a bit of harm, but their captors didn’t know that and if this was just your common-or-garden hold-up, they would simply comply and Superman or the police could get back whatever was stolen as soon as they were let go. But therein lay the issue: Lois was getting the feeling that this wasn’t just a robbery. It, unfortunately, looked an awful lot like a goddamned hostage situation, and her suspicions were only confirmed when the man holding the knife spoke up.

“Boss heard that you were sticking your nose where it isn’t wanted, writing a story about some stuff he brought over from Gotham,” he answered, “So Boss has decided to send you a very clear message: drop the story, or your boyfriend here is gonna go to bed tonight in a body bag.”

Clark winced as the gun was shoved against his skull, emphasizing his captors’ point, but Lois, instead of looking downright terrified, happened to look downright pissed.

“Alright, you’re Mal’s boys, aren’t you? I imagine that he’ll be pretty pissed when he hears that your hostage plan fell through.”

One look at her face, and Clark’s already-a-bit-dismayed spirits dropped - she was going to try something, and he wasn’t sure if it would end well. He knew for a fact that the gun currently pressed against his temple wouldn’t do him much harm, but it was still a little nerve-wracking to keep up the act of being scared while actually, genuinely scared and making sure said gun wasn’t pointed at Lois.

Clark was… well, Clark was a farmboy. He had grown up in the middle of Kansas where just about everyone’s pa owned a rifle of some sort, so it wasn’t as if he had never seen a gun before, it was just that he wasn’t used to having one pointed at him. Duck season had made him plenty familiar with what guns could do, and even though he knew it couldn’t hurt him, that did not mean that he was completely comfortable with it and to be perfectly honest, it made him just a little bit sick to his stomach.

“It ain’t gonna fall through,” one of Clark’s captors glowered suspiciously, breaking his train of thought, and Lois almost snorted in derision at the claim, hands on her hips as she snarled.

“Look, dumbass, anyone who's read the Daily Planet knows the sort of people I go after, and they also know that said people almost always end up behind bars. I’m not your cocky, everyday journalist who happened to dig up some dirt on your operation - nah, I’m ‘Mad Dog’ Lane, Pulitzer Prize investigator, queen of the front page - and if you think pointing a gun at my boyfriend’s head will get me to drop a story once I’ve got it in my teeth, than you’d better fucking think again!”

Clark felt both men stiffen behind him, clearly rethinking having messed with someone as well-known as Lois, but their fear of Boss Mal’s wrath was just the littlest bit stronger than that of a tall red-headed journalist cussing them out.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Lane,” the man with the knife said decidedly, working up the courage to take a threatening step towards her, “But if you don’t want to do this here, we could easily take both of you along and get this whole thing cleared up in front of the Bo-”

Clark should have expected her to know at least some basic self-defense moves, considering her history of going into dangerous warzones and offices only to walk right back out with the info she wanted and a few bruises on her otherwise flawless figure, but seeing her in action was admittedly a little surprising. Lois Joanne Lane was an army brat through and through, so it was honestly no trouble to knock the knife out his grip with a simple wrist chop and the same ferocious elegance she used to mix her coffee. A moment later, she had kicked the weapon out of the man’s reach, sending it skittering across the asphalt, and promptly disabled her would-be attacker with a sharp knee to the crotch.

While his friend was groaning on the ground, the man holding Clark hostage fumbled with his gun, suddenly caught off-guard and having to decide between threatening his captive and pointing the weapon at Lois before Clark made the decision for him. Remembering the few moves Darcie had managed to drill into his head during one of her failed attempts to teach him the proper way to hit someone, he shoved his elbow back to make contact with the man’s nose, careful to limit the amount of force he used so that the bone was only broken and not the entire face. It worked better than he had expected, and before he knew it, both of the attackers were lying on the ground, one squirming uncomfortably and the other trying to stem the flow of blood suddenly rushing from his nose.

Clark hardly noticed their screaming as he jumped to his feet, absently rubbing the spot where the gun had been pressed against his head as he caught Lois’ arm to ask, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” she all but laughed, her good mood not disturbed one bit by the whole situation, “Damn, this will make for an excellent follow-up piece to the article on Mal and his gang’s activities. What about you, babe - are you feeling okay?”

“Me? Yeah… I’m fine too,” he answered slowly, even though it was the farthest thing from the truth. Having a gun to his head had shaken him up more than a little, despite the fact that they both knew it couldn’t do him any harm.

It’d been frightening, knowing that both him and Lois were in danger and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it, yet her ecstatic mood - over a hostage situation, he had to remind himself - was more than a little infectious, and he was already feeling a little bit better by the time she had managed to get ahold of the police to report the incident. By the time they had given their statements to the two officers that arrived to the scene and finally reached Lois’ apartment, his anxiety was finally beginning to lose its clenching hold around his lungs and a hot cup of tea diminished it further - it was only when his hands finally stopped shaking that the hilarity of the whole situation finally dawned on him. Clark couldn’t wait to see Darcie’s face when she heard.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #taken hostage #DCEU #Clark Kent #fic #threats tw #Red Capes #Lois Lane #Superman

[whump-me-all-night-long]

The Scoop of a Lifetime - 1

Well, y'all, I'm actually posting something with my ocs. This is going to be a short series for Whumptober and it has a whole plot and everything! So, thanks for reading, and enjoy!

CW: mentions of torture, although it's pretty vague; stabbing, also vague; quick mention of drug usage; I can't really think of anything else, but if I missed something let me know!

Masterlist

---

Devin had regrets.

They didn't regret sneaking into the party, fitting in perfectly with their formal wear among the hundreds of other guests, their beating pulse the only sign they didn’t belong. That was all part of the job description. Being a journalist sometimes sometimes meant some good old fashioned breaking and entering - although was it really considered breaking and entering if they had simply walked straight through the front door?

They didn’t regret leaving the crowded safety of the main party area, slipping through one of the many side doors, their quiet demeanor and ability to blend into social settings ensuring they went unnoticed.

They didn’t regret slowly combing their way through the hallways and hallways of rooms, carefully and methodically searching through each of them, looking for the smallest hint of what they were searching for.

What Devin did regret, however, was hearing quiet murmuring and muffled thuds sounding from one of the rooms, the door cracked just enough that whoever closed it must have been doing so in a hurry and believed it to be closed and peeking through that cracked-open-just-enough door, and seeing a shirtless, bloody, bruised man hanging limply from the ceiling by his wrists. Now, normally, they would whip out their phone to call the cops and then run far, far away, but it was.. less than ideal, when there were a few other people in there, standing just feet away from them, one of whom was holding what looked like a bloody knife.

Devin knew they should probably back away, leave the party, call the police, go home, and forget they ever saw anything. But the person holding the knife gave them pause.

Because that person was the whole reason they had come to this foolish party. That was Erik Wildre, four time winner of Middleland’s Hottest Eligible Bachelors Under 30, millionaire, CEO, philanthropist, and, now, as they could clearly see, torturer extraordinaire.

It had all started when they had received an anonymous tip at the online newspaper they worked for, the Middleland Muse, that Wildre was caught up in one of the many infamous gangs that ran Middleland from deep within the shadows. As their top investigative journalist, Devin had immediately leapt at the opportunity. They knew he was hosting a party that weekend and had decided to sneak in, which wasn’t exactly difficult; everybody and their hermit, dead uncle came to his infamous bashes.

Now, they thought it would just be some sort of illegal drug ring; bad, of course, but nothing the people hadn't heard before, nothing the news hadn't reported on before. Everyday, it felt like some famous so-and-so was coming forward about their experiences with drugs, or they were being arrested for possession, or they were opening up about their past addictions, or whatever the five o’clock news anchor said that night. So safe to say, they were not prepared to see Wildre slicing a man up in one of his personal living rooms.

They pressed themself up against the door, taking care not to move it anymore than it was already cracked open, pressed an eye to the crack, and pulled out their sound recorder. They didn’t know why they couldn’t seem to just walk away, but they had this need to satisfy their curiosity; normally, that urge was what made them so successful in their career, but now it seemed like it could get them dead in a ditch somewhere. Pressing play, they winced at the quiet click and whirring it made before focusing back on the scene before them.

“Please, please, I don't know what you-you’re talking about!” The strung-up man seemed to be pleading, his breaths coming short and shallow. Devin could see a number of different markings covering his body, some old and some new and many they didn’t wish to identify. Their stomach flip flopped.

Wildre let out a cruel laugh, one that had certainly never been heard by the public before. “Of course you don't, Miller. You never seem to know anything. Do you?” His face was turned away from them, but Devin could just imagine an eyebrow raised.

“Please, please, I swear- Nooo!” His jumbled begging was cut off by a blood curdling scream, but none of the men seemed concerned; they were, after all, deep within the area closed off to the public.

Devin blinked, eyes wide in disbelief, as they saw the knife go deep into his side before Wildre twisted it and pulled it back out. They thought they were going to be sick; the bright red blood that poured out of the wound didn't look real, and the sound that the man made was inhuman. At first, they couldn’t comprehend what they had seen - it looked too fake, like something they’d see on TV - but then they shook their head slightly, the fogginess clearing a bit.

They quickly began backing away from the door, tucking their recorder back into the pocket of their pants. This was clearly much, much bigger than they had originally thought, and if they were willing to do that to someone, they didn't want to know what Wildre and his men would do to them if they were caught sneaking around.

They didn't dare turn away from the door as they hurried backwards, too afraid the men inside would see them while they were vulnerable, so they didn't see the person before they ran into a large, muscular chest and immediately felt arms that were just as strong wrap around them to restrain them.

They tilted their head up and found themself looking at a very large, very scary looking man. Probably security, they found themself thinking before they were half hoisted into the air.

“Well, what do we have here?” The man’s deep voice rumbled, and they felt the vibrations from where they were pressed against his chest.

They had only one thought flash through their mind before they were dragged into the room.

Why couldn't it have been drugs?

Next

#whumptober2020 #no.1 #hanging #OC #fic #mentions of torture cw #stabbing cw #drug mention cw #whump writing #devin connally #erik wildre #my writing #whump #The Scoop of a Lifetime #thanks for reading #whumpee #whumper #multiple whumpers #the scoop of a lifetime